


Fire & Gold

by Nellblazer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Bilbo is So Done, During The Hobbit, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Erebor, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Insults, Mysterious Past, POV First Person, Rangers, Ravens, Reader-Insert, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Stubborn Dwarves, The Lord of the Rings References, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Recommended by Gandalf for Thorin's Company to retrieve the Arkenstone from deep within Smaug's hoard, you must first contend with Thorin's ill will towards the other races of Middle Earth. Can the King under the Mountain come to see you an asset or even a friend in time? That possibility seems very far out of reach.
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Reader
Comments: 129
Kudos: 200
Collections: You In The Story Bro





	1. The Unexpected Host

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, still recovering from an injury but started a new project that I don't have to plan or think through too much.  
> This is all @whatafuckinnerd's/@escher84's fault for getting me to rewatch The Hobbit recently and rekindling the Thorin love.
> 
> Warnings: Thorin being xenophobic.
> 
> Happy reading x x

In the ardent din of the forest, in a clearing which invited the warmth of the sun and the floating of leaves and blossoms in the gentle breeze, stood a hunter's hut.

There was nothing special about it, no grand display of trophies outside or in, it was a simply a homestead on two stories.

The bottom housed a kitchen and a tannery and the top had all the comforts of a bed of softest furs and a view that would have most envious to behold.

It was on this particular day, an ordinary day that I returned to my hut, a net of fish over my back as I slung it on a hook in the kitchen for later. As with most days, the sun was too warm, too blazing to remain outside at this time and so I ensconced myself in the bed, letting slumber come to me as the song of the trees lulled me to dreams in my perfect isolation.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

The sound echoed and echoed in the emptiness of my home. Nobody should have found this place unless they were truly lost or perhaps the visitor had far more nefarious intentions.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Then again I had never heard of a polite intruder who announced their presence.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"If I shall have to knock again, Raven-Eyed, I shall be sorely disappointed in your declining lack of hospitality since our last meeting," a gruff voice, aged with many years of life wends through the open upstairs window.

I rush to the window ledge and lean out, gasping in surprise, "Greybeard!"

Gandalf the Grey was looking up at me giving his best admonishing look but it quickly broke upon seeing the smile on my face as he returned it with a small chuckle.

"Some tea perhaps?" Gandalf ventures. "I have a proposal to discuss and I fear it may be a long one."

"I'll be right down."

Down the stairs and through the maze of frames with stretched out hides to the door which I pulled open with an easy sense of familiarity but my happy surprise soon turned to dismay as several pairs of bodies greeted me.

"Gandalf?" I look at his companions, dwarves as far as my eye could see before me. "What is this?"

They tip their heads to me, all but one of the tallest ones, surly in his shrewd assessment of me. From him I'm only met with contempt as the dwarves stream into my home in a flurry.

I cannot prevent them, swept backwards in the tide and soon my empty hearth is lit, my catch of fish is being cooked and the silence is destroyed by laughter.

"Ah yes. I trust they won't be a problem while we discuss this matter?" Gandalf's mouth ticks upwards briefly, plainly amused by my bewilderment.

He too files past leaving only a halfling at the back of the line who seems to share my exasperation.

"If it's any consolation, they ambushed me like this as well," the halfling sighs. "My name is Bilbo Baggins. May I come in?"

"Enter, Master Baggins and stay close," I look to the rowdy dwarves. "You seem to be the only respectful guest here and just as in the dark as I am."

My house stuffed to bursting with merriment, I briefly glanced back to the ill-tempered dwarf who was leaning against my wall was some disdain for the ongoing events. There was something regal in his bearing, a haughtiness and a stiffness that only comes with a powerful lineage.

This had to be the leader of this merry band. I'm caught staring and eyes that shine as clear as gemstones, shot with teal come to glare into my own. The challenge was placed in that moment and I did not look away.

Royalty or not, leader or not, I would not be made to feel small in my own homestead.

“I think an explanation is in order, shall we sit?” Gandalf waves to my pitifully small table where the dwarves had crammed around it, sat on boxes, chests, stools and even a stack of books.

“Yes, I think we should,” I sigh, coming to stand before them.

The haughty dwarf deigns it time to rejoin the group but he stands also, as though keen not to put himself in a lower position, to be alert. Once more he assesses me.

“So this is her then?” he huffs, voice deep and rumbling in the air. “Your master hunter? The hobbit I can understand, he is small and can fit into places we cannot but you cannot seriously be suggesting, Gandalf, that this human is adept at tracking and finding things? I've never seen such an ungainly figure.”

“And I've never known such a rude guest,” I spit back. “You are under my roof, Master dwarf and you would do well to remember that.”

One of the older dwarves starts snickering to himself, “She's got you there, laddie. He means nae bother, lass. Don't mind him. He doesn't trust easy.”

“And why should I need his trust?”

“Because, dear Raven-Eyed,” Gandalf is already puffing away on his pipe. “They are in need of someone keen of gaze, sharp of wit and a good scout. I could think of no one better but yourself.”

“The compliment is well received, Greybeard but for what are my eyes going to be used for?”

The surly dwarf comes up close to me, squaring up and glowering through those dark eyebrows as he finally tells me the purpose of the unexpected visit, “We are the dwarves of Erebor and we seek to claim our home under the mountain. Master Baggins will be our burglar, to help us avoid the great dragon Smaug and Gandalf would have you be our hunter of the Arkenstone. It is a treasure of kings, lost in the vast hoard of gold there and my right. For I am-”

“-Thorin, son of Thráin,” I interrupt, the realisation striking me. “Yes I know who you are. Only a fool would seek to oust a dragon and the rest of you are fools for agreeing to this farce.”

“We are no fools,” Thorin's tone becomes barbed. “Erebor is our home and we have been away long enough. I am king to Durin's folk and I would be a poor king to abandon us to a life of wandering, of living off of the good graces of others. What do you know of the responsibilities of a leader? Nothing. What do you know of the loss of your birthplace? Nothing. Do not insult me, woman.”

“Thorin,” Gandalf says gently. “She understands more than you realise and you need her help.”

“I need nothing from the race of men,” Thorin curls his lip. “They are weak and they are loyal only to themselves.”

“Lad,” the white haired dwarf speaks up again. “We'll get nowhere by making enemies along the way. If ya want to return us to Erebor than Master Baggins is crucial but if ya want the Arkenstone too....you know as well as I do Smaug has added to that hoard in years past since we left. None of us can hope to find it alone. A ranger like this one? Invaluable.”

“Then tell me, _Master Hunter,_ ” Thorin's never looked away from me once in this time. “Do you have any other use? Perhaps a way to kill a dragon?”

“Animals are animals. Everyone of them has a weakness and a dragon is no different. It's a question of observing, watching for patterns. Say I do join your company, dwarves are not known for their quiet natures so can you give me silence if I need it? Can you step aside so I can hunt properly or will you just blunder in like your folk always seem to?” I fold my arms.

I catch Bilbo from the corner of my eye trying not to laugh and turning it into a cough.

“We can be quiet,” the youngest dwarf pipes up. “Uncle, if Gandalf recommends her services then it must count for something.”

“Kíli, be silent,” Thorin snaps before pointing at the white haired dwarf. “Balin, you can hold your tongue as well. So it would seem my kin are eager for your help, Master Hunter. Will you join us then?”

“Why should I, King Under the Mountain?”

“You may have your share of gold and riches should this quest succeed.”

“I have no need for gold. I have everything I could ever desire right here.”

I think I've bewildered the dwarven king because he's speechless for a moment, hardly daring to process the lack of desire for wealth. I took great pleasure in seeing that expression.

“There's a weapon, a bow that never misses its target within the halls of Erebor,” he tries again. “It's yours if you'll join us.”

“A kind offer but not one which interests me. A bow like that requires no skill and therefore provides no joy for me. I've spent years perfecting my craft and I want to enjoy the fruits of that.”

“Then damn it, woman! What would get you to come with us?” he loses his temper, eyes flashing and voice booming off the walls.

“For you to politely ask,” I surprise him with the answer. “And for some mithril to make arrows and tools from. It does not easily blunt.”

“That is all you want?” Thorin seems stunned. “Truly?”

“Truly. Not all of the race of men are concerned with material things, o' great king.”

This time Bilbo can't hide the snort and Thorin spins around to fix him with a withering look. The same look is extended to Gandalf who's chuckling quietly but it has no effect on the wayfaring wizard.

“Well go on,” a dwarf urges with an impressive ginger beard that's braided in a loop across the chest. “It would be rude to eat unless she accepts and I'm starving, Thorin.”

“You could do with skipping a meal occasionally, Bombur,” Thorin rolls his eyes. “Fine. So be it. I, Thorin, son of Thráin, King Under the Mountain am asking for your help and services, Master Hunter, the Raven-Eyed to seek the Arkenstone once we have won back Erebor for the sum of mithril tools and arrows. Will you join us?”

“I'll join you, if only to save Master Baggins from being killed in the night if he laughs at the wrong time,” I try humour to see how it lands.

There's the minutest twitch of his lips but ultimately he nods graciously and goes to eat, not deigning to have any further conversation with me. I could take offence but I was relieved not to have a war of words and Gandalf distracted me further by offering me a contract to sign.

Once the ink was dry, I let the dwarves have the run of my kitchen, choosing to sit back from the chaos and the singing. My ears were ringing, unused to such noise and I felt a gentle nudge from the halfling on my right.

“This'll go on for a while,” Bilbo nodded towards them, as Bombur spilled wine down himself and dabbed at his tunic with his beard. “They completely cleared out my pantry. They were nice enough to clean up after themselves though.”

“So how does a hobbit come to be in their company? Are you skilled at breaking and entering?” I whisper.

“Not particularly,” he shrugs. “Truthfully I have no idea why Gandalf recommended me. I suppose I am small and can move about easier than they can but still....hobbits are not supposed to have great adventures. It's frowned upon really.”

“So why agree?”

“Because I feel like I've never really done anything with my life. I've never stepped beyond the boundaries of The Shire and, truthfully, if I'm honest...I like seeing the Sackville-Bagginses looking outraged whenever they spot me. Brightens my day.”

I made the mistake of laughing loudly and drew attention back on myself. The dwarven king seemed ready to break our uneasy alliance right then and there but Balin, who I had come to see was the most reasonable and experienced of the party, smiled with me and clapped his hands.

“Nice to see you're getting along,” he grins. “Why don't you two come over here and get to know us?”

And so I learned the name of my companions. Thorin, Balin, Kíli and Bombur I knew but I nodded my assent to Óin and Glóin, to Nori, Dori and Ori, to Bifur and Bofur, to Dwalin and finally to Fíli. Fíli and Kíli were Thorin's nephews, a bright pair of young dwarves who had a cheery demeanour that was in stark contrast to their glowering king. I gravitated towards them naturally and as they were sat with Balin and Ori, I'd managed to ensconce myself and Bilbo within the kindest section of the table.

The chatter went on long into the evening and by the time the sun had set, I realised the issue of where everyone would sleep was fast approaching. True to Master Baggins' word though, the dwarves cleaned up my home until you'd never guess it had been host to such a large company. Only the empty nets and bare shelves belied anything different. The change in the room seemed to make the dwarves presence less all encompassing.

“I assume you are staying the night here before we depart?” I address them.

“If you'll be so kind as to have us, lassie,” Balin nods.

“I can bring furs from upstairs for you to sleep on. It gets cold in the night,” I offer. “Give me a moment.”

And so I climbed the stairs to the top level of my home, gathering blankets and extra pillows I had stuffed and hoarded for when mine would fall into disrepair. I was just making a pile on my bed when I heard footsteps and the door creaking. I turned around to see Thorin stood there, scanning the room.

“There is more space up here. It'd be prudent for some of us to sleep on this level so we're not crowded,” he says, wandering the length of it.

“Not prudent for me, o' king, or would you have your kin be in my presence while I change for sleep?”

There's a momentary flash of embarrassment in his features but it's swept away by another scathing remark, “You'll be on this journey with us for some time, Master Hunter. It is something you will have to bear. You'll sleep in close quarters with Durin's folk, sometimes huddled for warmth I should expect.”

“Then allow me one night of luxury and privacy before we leave then,” I stand my ground. “Or do you insist on being present while I undress, King Under the Mountain?”

As brazen as he may be, I knew there was a line of decency and honour he would not stray from. I could count on that at least.

“You seem to be under the illusion that I would take delight in that visage,” Thorin scoffs. “I do not find your kind appealing.”

“And you are under the illusion that I am after your attentions to begin with,” I counter before filling his arms with furs. “Do not think so highly of yourself, Thorin, son of Thráin. Now leave my bedchambers.”

Just as he's about to depart through the door frame, hands full and vision mostly obscured, I call after him, “And tell Master Baggins he's free to sleep up here if you're done bothering him also.”

The hatred in his expression was palpable but he left without comment and soon the patter of little feet signalled Bilbo's arrival. I had not expected Thorin to actually relay the message.

“Thank you,” Bilbo does a small wave. “You would not believe how loud they snore. I might be able to get a decent night's sleep at last.”

“Come, Master Baggins, I can set you a cot here,” I start making him somewhere to sleep.

“I see you're getting along well with Thorin,” the sarcasm is evident.

“If he will insist in trying to take over my home without permission then he should expect some push back. My bedchambers are my own to offer out and king or no king, he was impolite about it.”

“Why me though? Why not Gandalf if you already know him?”

“Gandalf has his own methods. He has stayed once before and took to wandering in the night so I would not cage him up here. Wizards go where they will, Master Baggins but I see no reason why you should suffer when they have impressed this quest upon you.”

“Well it is appreciated,” Bilbo settles down. “I would perhaps try to get on with Thorin though or it'll be a very awkward journey.”

“He caused the first offence.”

“If I've learned anything about dwarves in the few days it took to get here from Hobbiton, it's that they're incredibly stubborn and proud. He won't extend peace first.”

“Then he shall not get peace. If he trades barbs with me he'll receive barbs back in abundance. I am not some weak willed woman he can kowtow with his own self importance,” I change behind a screen into my night clothes, the last time I should do so before this quest began. “That may work with his companions but it will not with me.”

“On your head be it. Just try not to kill each other,” comes the exasperated sigh.

“Good night, Master Baggins,” I chuckle before getting in my bed and blowing out the candle.

In the dark I could hear baritone mutterings from downstairs that I knew must be Thorin venting his displeasure to the others but I paid it no heed, rolling myself up in soft blankets and revelling in every little luxury of my home life before I would be thrown to the elements for who knows how long.

In truth, I had only agreed to this venture for Gandalf's sake. I trusted his judgement, that I would be a boon for the dwarves of Erebor and since Gandalf had helped me escape my fate, since he had helped me settle in these woods, I owed him a debt which I was now repaying.

It would be untruthful to say that that was all that motivated me to accept though. Deep in my wild spirit, there was a great thrill to imagine hunting a creature such as Smaug the Terrible. To slay a dragon was a hunter's passing fantasy but now I would have the opportunity.

Perhaps a fiery, agonising death was all that awaited me but should I succeed, the title of Master Hunter would be more than a formality. It would be my legacy.


	2. Trolls In the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions reach critical point as your scouting methods cause upset within the company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Thorin being xenophobic some more and generally horrible
> 
> Happy reading! xx

My final morning of luxury was rudely interrupted by the violent shaking of my body.

“Get up,” a gruff voice. “Get up. Do the race of men not know the meaning of haste and punctuality?”

I blinked the sleep away, staring into those intense blue eyes that belonged to the dwarven king as he made his contempt for me known instantly. Out of boldness, I sat bolt upright, trying to scare him back from his looming but all that did was cause the furs to fall away and he was exposed to the sight of my night shift.

“What do you want?” I hiss, daring him to look.

Abruptly his eyes widened and he turned away, talking half over his shoulder.

“We leave in an hour at the latest. Pack light. Wake Master Baggins while you're at it. If he can sleep through me rousing you, he can sleep through anything.”

He swiftly left and I fell back on the bed, knowing this journey would be an ordeal but an ordeal I was willing to endure. I gave Bilbo a much gentler greeting to the day than I had received and I started throwing a light change of clothes, my tracking tools and sharpening equipment into a napsack before getting ready in my more armoured hunting gear, braiding back errant hairs to keep my eyes clear.

When I rejoined the party downstairs and started placing blades in holsters, secreting knives on my person and getting my bow and quiver, the young two dwarven princes were just goggling with fascination.

“That's a lot of weapons for a ranger,” Fíli notes.

“Wouldn't be much of a Master Hunter if she didn't come prepared,” Dwalin snorts, clapping the two of them on the back.

“Such fine blades though,” Kíli points out. “Where did you get those from? Did you make them?”

“No I did not make them, though I know how to make rudimentary blades with no finesse,” I dodge the question.

“What does it matter, Kíli?” Thorin interjects as Bilbo comes down the stairs. “Our company is now complete. We leave immediately.”

They file out of my home as I walk out and lock it firmly, not knowing if I would ever return. Gandalf must've sensed my hesitation because he pats me on the shoulder kindly.

“You'll be back before you know it, Raven-Eyed,” he tries to reassure me.

Somehow I don't believe I will be but the thought was comforting. Instead of giving into the feeling, I climbed aboard the back of the horse that Bilbo helpfully told me was called Daisy.

She was a skittish thing and prone to rearing. I would swear blind that Thorin had given her to me intentionally to make me uncomfortable and this was confirmed when I looked to see his smirk. However, that smirk turned to a frown when I bent forward, softly stroking Daisy's neck and whispering words of a language long since fallen into disrepair. The language of beasts. Then my horse was suddenly calming, snorting in high derision and telling me in rough terms that the dwarves were too crass for her liking.

Again, I laughed too loudly as Daisy cantered to the back of the line. It was easier for me to keep our back protected from here. Gandalf had a keen ear himself so I knew he would protect the front of the party.

“Let us begin then,” Thorin calls, with another of his hateful gazes.

“Were you just talking to the horse?” Bilbo asks me, completely baffled.

“Sort of. I'm quite rusty on some of the dialects of different beasts. I used to know them better. I get a general idea from the kinder creatures of this earth and Daisy doesn't approve much of the swearing apparently.”

“Swearing?!” Kíli whips around in his seat. “She really said that?! That's fascinating!”

The two dwarven princes were endlessly curious and fielded many questions to me that I had to artfully skirt around. My past was my own and no one else's to know. Bilbo saw my discomfort on occasion and draw attention back onto himself with brash complaints about being saddle sore and missing home.

I had come to like the hobbit very much in a short space of time. Shire folk I had never had much cause to come across before but if Bilbo was an example, I would be happy to visit should I live through this endeavour.

On into the day and the lowering sun as we finally made camp. The others busied themselves with bedding and food preparation but I was never comfortable until I had scouted the area. The high rocks would give us shelter from errant weather and being flanked from behind but it would also hem the firelight in, make it concentrated. To any passing foe, their meal would be well lit.

“Where are you going?” Thorin has caught up to me as I stand on a tall rock some ways away from the camp. “Are you leaving?”

“I'm not leaving, I'm looking. Scouting if you will,” I don't even turn to face him. “But the tree line is obscured by thicket there. This terrain is boulder strewn also. Many opportunities for an attack. I'll need other eyes to help.”

“Perhaps you will talk to a local squirrel then?” he mocks me.

I still refuse to look at him before making the chirping, whistling sound. I may be too far away for the call to be heard but anything would be worth a try to ensure our safety. In the mean time, I appear incredibly foolish to Thorin I would expect.

“A passing pigeon, perchance?” he laughs. “Come away, Master Hunter. My folk will eat your ration if you remain here much longer.”

“In a moment,” I shoo him with a hand which he makes a noise of disbelief and offence at. “Wait...there we are!”

My raven friend had indeed been following as I'd hoped and landed on my shoulder with a soft caw. He allowed me to pet his head briefly before shaking his feathers.

“That.....that.....” Thorin's voice had all but dropped to a growl. “You have no right. NO RIGHT!”

His bellowing is so loud that I hear the others in the company fall silent at once, even from this distance. It's almost eerie in the peri-gloom.

“No right?” I repeat before his shaking finger points to the bird.

“That....that is a raven of _Erebor_. None of the race of men hold sway to them. They guard the halls of dwarves and tell our messages. You have no right to that bird, woman!”

“He came to _me_ ,” I stand to my full height on the rock, almost as tall as an elf now as I towered over him; he who was great in height himself in his own rage. “I found him with broken, singed wings and I helped him to fly again. Did you not wonder why they call me the Raven-Eyed? Rathak has been my airborne scout for years now. He _chooses_ to stay by my side.”

“Nonsense, you have bewitched him with that foul language that you spoke to the horse in!” Thorin's almost nose to nose with me now as I'd bent down to trade barbs. “The ravens of Erebor have no human masters!”

It was then that Rathak took the opportunity to peck at Thorin's cheek from his vantage point on my shoulder. It was not a peck of true intent, only a warning and punctuated by a puffing of feathers and a ear-splitting squawk.

Even the King Under the Mountain could understand the message being relayed.

“I should kill you for this....this...grave insult!” he spits at my feet.

“Then try, o' great king.”

I thought he might slay me right there. His hand was fondling the grip of his sword and I have never seen such pure loathing, as though he meant to spear me open with his pointed expression. He just walked away though, back to the camp and I sent Rathak into the sky with an instruction to tell me if anything was amiss.

Reluctantly I returned to see Gandalf warring with Thorin himself, no doubt over what had just transpired. Just as I reached the camp site, Gandalf was stalking away in anger, disappearing into the night.

“What did you say?!” I demand. “Why did Gandalf leave?!”

“I said you don't belong here,” Thorin squares up again. “Your very being is offensive to us.”

“Offensive to all or just _you_?” I jab him in the chest with my finger. “At least I'm taking care of one of the Erebor ravens. Can you honestly say you've attempted to find the others in all this time? Or were you too busy pining for your comfy throne and whining about how life is not fair to you?”

I see the punch coming and duck it, headbutting him since he's so close but I'd forgotten how tough the skulls of dwarves were and whilst he staggered backwards from the impact, I also stumbled in a daze before I found my footing again.

“Tear up the contract, Balin,” I rub my forehead. “I'm finished with this company if this arrogant boy king is what's leading it.”

Rathak appears in that moment, nestling on my shoulder and cawing that the woods to the left were clear. I should've asked him to check the woods to the right but I was so incensed, I just grabbed my napsack and weapons.

“See?” Thorin points out my companion. “She means to take-”

“-Oh shut up, laddy!” Balin raises his voices for the first time. “The wee girl and that raven look inseparable. By the skies, we need all the allies we can get on this mission and she is the best, so will you put your pigheadedness aside for a moment?!”

“He won't need to. I'm going home. Thank you for the journey thus far, master dwarves. I'll leave the horse,” I begin striding away, fully intending on returning to my soft bed.

I wasn't too far from my hut still, maybe a day and a half's walk if I was slow. I could restock my larders when I got back and make a celebratory feast for myself for putting up with Thorin Oakenshield.

Dragons be damned, nothing was worth Thorin's constant outbursts.

“Wait up!” I hear the pattering of small feet and turn to see Bilbo running after me.

By this point I was a full hour or so away from the camp site so the hobbit was determined, I'll give him that. He looked out of breath, the buttons on his waistcoat threatening to pop off with his gulps of air.

“Master Baggins? Why are you following me?”

“Because, because we need you,” he leans on his knees before looking up at me. “He won't say it, Thorin that is, but he needs you.”

“Well he has a funny way of showing it. He's not a credit to dwarvenkind, I'll say that.”

“He is a bit prickly, yes,” Bilbo concedes. “But he did seem ashamed of himself after you left. I've never seen Balin that angry to be honest. Most of the others were unhappy as well.”

“Most, not all. That's not enough to continue such a long journey with awkward travelling companions, Master Baggins.”

“Look, they don't like me particularly either but I'm not here for them. I'm here to do something...do something different with my life. I imagined you signed for a similar reason.”

I quietly talk to Rathak as he takes wing, disappearing and blending into the inky sky.

“What did you say to him?” Bilbo enquires.

“I asked if he'd go check on Thorin and see if he was sufficiently sorry looking enough. He might not apologise to my face but if he appears distressed when I'm not there to witness it, that'll be enough for me to come back. In the meantime, let's walk you some of the way towards the camp site. You shouldn't have charged through these woods after me. It's not safe.”

“Neither is walking off on your own. Besides, who will keep me sane if you leave? We're the only two outsiders here. You don't want to leave me to deal with that lot on my own, do you?”

“Oh!” I chuckle as we start making our way back. “Such manipulation, young hobbit! I never knew you had it in you.”

“I'm full of surprises,” he winks.

So we start winding back along the path, Bilbo nattering about life in the Shire as we went. I suspect it was to distract me, calm me down and so help me it was working. By the time I passed the large standing stone that signalled the halfway point on the way back, I was even smiling.

“-and you should have seen the look on Lobelia's face. Oh it was marvellous!” Bilbo had recounted me with stories of his family drama. “She had to downsize after that. Always hated the fact I got Bag End. I have half a mind to wonder whether she'll break in and start squatting there since I left.”

“I hope you locked the doors firmly,” I shake my head with a grin.

“And the windows too. She'll have to batter down the door to get in and I can't imagine that'll be a very quiet job.”

Rathak returns, already crowing before he lands on my outstretched arm. I know from that tone that something's happened.

“The party has been taken captive,” I relay to the concerned hobbit next to me. “By trolls.”

“What do we do?”

“Save them.”

“Even though-”

“Even though, Master Baggins. As much as I would be happy never to see Thorin Oakenshield again, I will not abandon the rest of them to a terrible fate. Come along! Rathak, lead the way!”

If ever there was a more ridiculous sight for two saviours of dwarves, it was a hunter and a hobbit charging through the undergrowth after a raven. I kept half an eye on the sky and half on the dark brambles underfoot as we followed our guide until Rathak suddenly dropped out of the sky to land on a rock and I pulled Bilbo behind it as I peered around to see three trolls, high as the trees, huge and lumbering discussing how best to eat our former companions.

Several of the dwarves were bound in sacks on the floor and some were tied to a spit, slowly rotating over a fire. Bofur's hat kept lighting on fire and he would desperately blow it out after each roll.

“'Urry up!” one of the trolls screeches, thumping his fellow in the arm. “I'm 'ungry.”

“They take time!” the cross-eyed one winces. “I don't even know how you eat these things!”

“Just move it. Sun's coming up soon, I don't fancy being turned to stone.”

I look over to the horizon and note it's only fifteen or so minutes until the sun will start cresting. I racked my brains for a way to distract them for that long.

It appeared as if Bilbo had the same idea because he tugged at my sleeve so I'd pay attention, “What if we got them arguing? They seem like the type to turn on each other.”

“How should we do that, Master Baggins?”

“Do you think you can imitate one of them? The high pitched one?”

“Perhaps. Why?”

“Go over there to the other side and make them argue. I'll go over this side and do the same. We just need to keep it going for a little while.”

“Stay safe then,” I nod, keeping low to the ground as I moved around the trolls' camp, seeing Bilbo in position who gives a thumbs up before going first.

“Are you sure roasting them is the best idea? It'll take all night!” he booms out in a very good impression.

“Oh don't start this again!” the right troll rolls his eyes.

“Start what?” the left troll seems confused.

“I'm here slaving away every night trying to make us nice meals and you keep belittling me!” the centre cross-eyed troll starts weeping.

“Alright alright, maybe we can boil them instead,” the right troll tries to peace make.

“We ain't got no water and the well is far away!” I imitate the centre troll.

“Oh bleedin' 'ell,” the left troll shakes his great head. “We're trying to make the best of it here!”

And they devolve into further arguments until they came to a decision to sit on the dwarves and squash them to speed up the process for the next night since the dawn was approaching.

“But who should we sit on first?!” comes one of the troll voices and I swear I did not see them speak and it was not Bilbo that said anything.

I turned to spot a flash of grey in the bushes from the adjacent end of the clearing. Gandalf must have returned and was helping us.

“How about the one with the big brown braided beard?” the left troll points at Bombur.

“That's not brown, that's ginger!” Gandalf carries on in that guttural tone. “Or did you mean the one at the back?”

“I'm right confused now,” the centre troll scratches his head. “That's definitely ginger.”

“I meant ginger!” the left troll gets annoyed.

“Why'da say brown then?!”

“I don't know! Stop looking at me like I'm stupid!”

Again the argument arose and this time it was fierce, blows were traded and the cross-eyed troll very nearly squashed Nori under foot.

“Dawn take you all!” Gandalf roars just as the sun crests the treeline and they were forever frozen, staring up at the boulder, hands still raised to fight. “Well well, that was a bit of a pickle, wasn't it?”

I went to start unlacing dwarves from the sacks, helping them free with Bilbo until I got to Thorin. I hesitated for a moment before undoing the cord and wiggling him out.

I extended my hand to help him up, not expecting him to take it. He stared at it for a time and I became uncomfortably aware the interaction was being watched by everyone.

Finally, slowly, he placed his palm in mine and I hefted him to his feet.

“I thought you were gone. Master Baggins too,” he stares at the ground.

“How very fortunate for you I came back then,” I go to untie Glóin. “Rathak told me you were all in danger.”

Glóin immediately rushes off to the rest of the company, eager to get away from the possible brewing storm between myself and the dwarven king.

“Then the ravens of Erebor still protect our kind,” Thorin nods thoughtfully. “I...I....”

“I think the word you're looking for is 'sorry', lad,” Balin gives him a reproachful eyebrow.

“She's proved herself enough,” Dwalin joins his brother.

The chorusing of the dwarves grew loud, shouting for my defence until Thorin had to silence them, Kíli and Fíli most of all and even little Ori was getting passionate in my honour.

“Enough!” Thorin quells their protests before looking at me directly. “Very well. I apologise for what I have said and I thank you for returning. Will you continue on this journey with us?”

“If Balin hasn't torn up the contract yet,” I look to the elderly dwarf who just gives me a warm smile.

“No, lassie. Knew you'd come back,” he winks.

“Then I'll be continuing but I have a mind to ask for better treatment,” I turn to the King Under the Mountain.

“As you wish,” the standoffish demeanour is back. “We should keep moving, sleep for a few hours then continue. It will do us no good to be tired along the way.”

Back to the camp we went. The food for that night, as Thorin had warned me, was already devoured but Dori found me some bread for my starving hunger that announced its presence quite loudly after I finally started relaxing.

“I'd say we did rather well,” Bilbo puts his bed roll next to mine.

“ _You_ did rather well. That was a stroke of genius, Master Baggins,” I encourage him. “But you didn't have to let me take all the credit.”

“Yes I did,” he gives me a small smile. “Now they trust you more.”

“You're a good soul.”

“I've always thought so.”

I turned on my side, intent on going to sleep but managed to lock eyes with Thorin as he was sitting on a small rock by the cooking pot, taking the watch. The sun was getting high enough that I could see every detail of his face as he looked my way and I did not understand the expression there.

Was it perhaps shame? Embarrassment? Humbleness?

“Go to sleep, Raven-Bearer,” he instructs me, with no malice in his voice for once before finally turning his gaze out to the woods.

Raven-Bearer.

It was more than just a new name, it was acceptance and I finally felt some of the tension leave my chest enough to drift off, even in the fiery light of the rising sun.


	3. The Problem with Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The appearance of Radagast brings grim news all around but when elves come into the picture, nothing can prepare you for Thorin’s even darker mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: More Thorin being prickly
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors and I have kludged this Quenya together so it’s probably wrong)

While Thorin's countenance towards me was not any more friendly as we journeyed on, it was not hostile either. An uneasy kind of civility was agreed upon silently. He did not bother me and I did not bother him.

We found the troll's hoard, elven made swords, jewels and gold spilled across the stone floor wherein Gandalf, Thorin and Bilbo took the weapons whilst some of the others took the coins and stones, stuffing them in their pockets. I merely took the well made arrows I found, stowing them in my quiver for now before we departed.

As the days stretched on, I had befriended more than half of the company present and the others gave me respect where it was due but I had come to discover some were not great talkers. I could honour that stance.

Gradually the Great East Road planed out and I could see the range of the Misty Mountains along the horizon, snow capped and desolate. That was a particular part of the quest I was dreading. The climb would be long and cold if we were to struggle over the top but the secret passageways I had heard existed were infested with orcs and goblins. Neither path was without its perils.

After we crossed the River Loudwater, I had the feeling we were being followed. My senses became on high alert and I spurred Daisy forward so I could catch up to Gandalf and Thorin at the front of the party.

“Something's coming,” I spoke more to the wizard than the dwarven king. “Something fast but it doesn't sound like a foe. It's making too much noise for that.”

“How can you tell?” Thorin eyes me with suspicion.

“Listen and you'll hear it,” I cock my head to the side. “Pattering, the dragging of leaves, a male exhaling and the creaking of wood and......squeaking. Rabbits?”

“Rabbits?” Gandalf seems marginally more relaxed now. “Radagast!”

And there the brown wizard finally broke through the treeline on his rabbit pulled sled. He looked more frantic, more panicked than I had ever had cause to see him before.

“What is the matter, dear friend?” I ask quickly, dismounting and running over.

“The matter?” Radagast turns to me before his worry turns to joy. “Raven-Eyed! It has been so long! Are you still around the Brandywine? Lovely part of the world that. The badgers are particularly hospitable there. Oh I do miss our chats, I think-”

“Radagast!” Gandalf interrupts. “We don't have time to gossip! What has gotten you so harried?”

“Right, yes yes,” Radagast nods several times, wringing his hands. “It's the Greenwood. It's sick Gandalf. Something foul has fallen over these lands. The spawn of Ungoliant make their webs in the dark also. They came from Dol Guldur.”

But I did not listen to the rest of the conversation. My head had snapped up to the treeline. There was a scent in the air, a scent that rankled my nose of wet fur and dried blood. The noise of breaking twigs underfoot was growing louder but the creature approaching was being cautious, delicate and I knew the sound of an advancing predator when I heard one.

“What do you hear?” Thorin's voice is low, like he doesn't wish to alarm the others.

“A beast is tracking us and this is not a friendly one,” I whisper back. “Sounds like the horses have bolted also.”

“Send the raven to-”

“-there is no time, it's nearly upon us,” I nock an arrow in my bow and jolt the other dwarves who were trying to follow the wizards' conversation. “If I had to guess, I'd say Wargs.”

“Wargs?” Thorin unsheathes his sword. “Then orc packs will not be far behind.”

“What are Wargs?” Bilbo has joined my side.

I let Thorin explain, too busy watching the trees before I find the bite point of the string and let the arrow fly free straight into the half leaping Warg that crashed down the ridge towards us in a tumble of limbs, dead upon the impact. Two more sprung from the darkness which Thorin and Kíli quickly dispatched, the still twitching maw inches from Bilbo as he made a noise of fear.

“More are approaching. We need to go or they'll be upon us before we can get out. This is not a place to get cornered in,” I try to impress the danger upon the King Under the Mountain and he agrees without argument.

“Gandalf, we should flee. In Durin's name I have no idea what is happening but we must flee,” Thorin calls to the grey wizard.

By now all of the dwarves are readying their weapons and all I can hear is the footfall of wargs and their riders getting closer. Radagast can hear it too and we share a moment before the brown wizard nods to me.

“I shall draw them off. Give you time to escape,” he tells Gandalf.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you!” Gandalf shakes his head.

“And these are Rhosgobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try,” Radagast grins before racing to his sled.

“They are fast, Gandalf. He will give us time,” I push the grey wizard forward. “Show us the way and quickly. I'll defend the rear.”

“Take Kíli,” Thorin grabs my arm more harshly than he needs to. “Another archer will be of help.”

So the dwarven prince and I follow at the back as we race across the rock strewn plains, hearing Radagast laughing in the distance and the sounds of howling and snarling. Our ruse was not enough to fully draw away the orc pack and we became flanked.

Kíli and I dispatched as many as we could from our position, holding the line as Gandalf hurried the others down into the earth, a hidden passageway. I was running out of arrows and we were drawing too much attention back on ourselves by fighting. The pack was bearing down upon us.

In the fray, I heard Thorin calling for Kíli and then Balin calling for myself to follow. Kíli kept shooting though, gripped by some battle frenzy and I had to take him by the scruff of his tunic and drag him back to hole, throwing him down.

I was hit in the back by something heavy just as a horn sounded and I rolled over and over until I hit the bottom with a thud, winding myself as the heavy object was removed from me and I was pulled to my feet.

“Well that was a lucky escape,” Ori kicked the dead orc who had fallen into me with an elvish arrow stuck firmly in its flesh.

I had probably been very close to receiving that arrow myself.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo sees my scuffed hands. “You're hurt.”

“Nothing some water and wrappings won't fix,” I smile at his concern. “I will need to find a way to replenish my arrows along the way if we come across a town. I only have five left.”

“You would've had more if you'dve come when called upon,” Thorin gives both Kíli and I a disapproving glare. “Heroics will get you killed. We are here to survive until we reach the Lonely Mountain, not to die on the road there.”

“Sorry uncle,” Kíli looks ashamed but I offer no apology myself and nor did I think Thorin was expecting one from me.

“I don't know why you're admonishing her, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf raises an eyebrow. “Had she not heard the Wargs coming, this might have been a very different story. I assume you are now satisfied in my recommendation having witnessed her skills first hand?”

Thorin gives me a quick glance before staring ahead at the passageway and forging onwards, “The Raven-Bearer will do.”

“That's high praise coming from him,” Fíli laughs, clapping me on the arm.

We followed the pass until it became evident we were to impress upon Rivendell. I had only seen sketches before, heard stories but nothing could've prepared me for the beauty of seeing the cascading waterfalls, the graceful spires and the dripping lush greenery.

Gandalf led us to the entrance where we became surrounded by the returning elves who had presumably exterminated the orc pack. For a time, their leader spoke in Elvish with Gandalf which I couldn't understand much of. First Thorin was pointed out and his dwarven kin and then myself was singled out for a reason I did not know.

The leader's eyes became wide as he took me in and addressed me by a term I knew, “ _Nanrand_ _í_ _r_. _Anel Arthedainello_.”

_Woodland wanderer. Daughter of Arthedain._

I grew stiff, hoping none of the others would notice the title, though it belonged to an ancestry I'd never experienced directly. I believed that Gandalf would have a good reason to divulge my past to the elven lord though. I trusted him.

“Come friends, I am Lord Elrond. We shall offer you food and rest,” Elrond's gaze flicks back to the main throng of dwarves.

On cue, Bombur's stomach rumbled loudly which set the company off laughing and the tense air was mostly dispelled, except for Thorin who was rigidly trying to stand his ground to some imagined enemy. The King Under the Mountain appeared to hate everyone who was not dwarvenkind.

I was separated from the group, bathed, given a dress to wear and was brought before Elrond. I felt uneasy, off guard without my usual attire and weapons.

“There is no need to look so alert,” Elrond smiles kindly. “I only wish to ask how the defences of Eriador are. You are in the northern areas beyond the Barrow Downs, are you not? You may speak freely here. I am not Thorin Oakenshield and I know of your kin and what they do. For orcs to come so close to the hidden pass here...there are not many of you left, are there?”

“I have not seen another ranger for some time, Lord Elrond,” I stand a bit taller. “White Wolves continue to harry the north, Barrow-Wights try to escape and there is talk of spiders roving from the Mirkwood boundaries. I do what I can.”

“Do you intend to continue on this quest?”

“I do.”

“Then I will need to send someone in your stead to take your place. We cannot be overrun in Eriador. Rhovanion is on its knees with these dark creatures,” his voice is stern.

“You will need several to hold the borders then. They do not know the woods like I do, nor what traps I have lain.”

“Very well,” Elrond bows. “That is all I wished to ask. You may rejoin your company. I have a meeting of the White Council to convene.”

I bow back, being led by a young elf whose silence was welcome right now. I had not expected to be known here. I had not expected to be known by an elvish lord especially. The subtle chiding for leaving my post on pursuit of this mission was clear but I would reason that if Smaug the Terrible were unleashed upon Rhovanion, Eriador's riches could be within his sights.

But now, amongst my companions, I was simply a hunter again, a nobody. I think I preferred this much more.

“Don't you look nice, lassy?” Balin smiles as I sit between him and Bilbo.

“Thank you, though I'm not entirely comfortable wearing this,” I pluck at the tight waist of the dress. “It's restrictive.”

“If you will be a friend to elves then they'll parade you as their human curiosity,” Thorin's picking at the salad leaves.

“I didn't realise I had elvish friends,” the spiced words fall out of me upon instinct. “Perhaps they might be a great deal nicer to me.”

“Oh not this again,” Balin looks to the sky.

“I have said nothing cruel,” Thorin looks up before properly taking me in. “It is a nice dress and it is worn well. Does that make you happy?”

He returns to shredding the lettuce with his fork with a disgruntled look. Somehow his compliment felt more like an insult, that there was no genuine feeling behind it but I had to accept it at face value. I did not want to cause more arguments.

After a few minutes where I picked at my own food, Thorin stood up.

“Raven-Bearer, I wish to speak with you. Alone.”

“Don't do it,” Bilbo whispers. “He's been in a foul mood since we arrived here.”

“I have to,” I speak out of the side of my mouth. “But should I turn up dead, you'll know the culprit.”

“As you wish,” I say out loud to Thorin and follow him along the winding bridges until we're out of sight and out of earshot of anyone.

Thorin sits down, facing a waterfall and I feel safe enough to sit beside him. If he pushed me off the bridge, it would not be a steep drop.

“The elf lord,” he begins. “I do not speak their language but I know place names when I hear them. Arthedain?”

I don't speak, just staring at the churning water at the bottom of the waterfall.

“Part of my duty of the line of Durin is to know the world's history,” Thorin continues after realising I wasn't going to answer. “Arthedain was lost some thousand years ago, its people displaced. Those people helped mine when we were exiled, our journey taking us to the Blue Mountains and Ered Luin. The Dúnedain.”

Still I said nothing.

“Gandalf did not merely find us a master hunter and a scout, did he? He found us a Dúnedain ranger.”

“What is it you wished to talk about, King Under the Mountain?” I deflect.

“I did not believe they trained women for the purpose.”

I took a deep breath. Thorin had already guessed correctly and I cursed his royal education inwardly.

“They did not have much choice when our ranks began thinning.”

“It sounds as if there is a tale to that statement.”

“Not one I will share,” I say coldly.

“A painful tale then,” he surmises. “Still, this knowledge has endeared me a little better to you. You also know what it is to be displaced from a home. That is why your blades are so fine, is it not? Relics of Arthedain? Were you of a noble line? Is that what Gandalf meant in those cryptic words at your home?”

“My past belongs to me. I divulge it only to those I trust and I do not trust you, Thorin Oakenshield,” I look straight at him. “I will accompany you, I will fight beside you but I will never trust you for the simple reason that you will never trust me.”

“Well,” Thorin's features harden a little before he stares out at the water and his brows slowly uncrease. “I will keep your secret from the others and perhaps we shall be a little more understanding of each other then.”

“We shall see.”

Silence falls, only the rushing waves and the cool breeze giving us music. I did not want to leave for fear of being called weak, for running away from the conversation so I stayed there, feeling the sun tickle at my face.

“Your skills of the woodland are very fine indeed,” he says from nowhere. “If I can trust something, it is that you will not let this company falter or be put in danger.”

“You're right to think that. I have grown very fond of your kinsmen.”

“And they are fond of you. My nephews will talk of nothing else,” he gives a gruff laugh. “They are young and curious of the world. They have known only mountain halls and rough land most of their lives though.”

“I cannot imagine being out of the sun for years on end,” I tilt my head back to feel the warmth from the sky. “How can you stand it?”

“We have light that mimics it,” Thorin lies back on the bridge and I follow suit. “The halls of Erebor were full of them and they would reflect off the great green walkways and the golden veins running through the mountain. The city was so vast that the higher you are to the peak, the lighter it becomes. Somehow the beauty of the world outside fades to nothing when you have gazed down towards the gold pits sparkling in the deep. Jewels would twinkle in the walls, like coloured fireflies and feel like night and day were simultaneous.”

“I should like to see that,” I had closed my eyes, trying to imagine his words. “It sounds beautiful.”

“It is. More so than this place although given who you are, this may be more appealing.”

“I have wandered in woods for years, decades, Thorin Oakenshield. Whilst Rivendell is indeed astonishing, I should like to see something different.”

“Then you shall. I shall show you the great forges, the mines, the palace and the halls,” his tone is that of a dreamer, soft and romanticised.

For the first time on this journey, I have no enmity for the dwarven king. I listen to his flowery words about his home and I am lulled into something of a tranquil daze by it.

“Come, we must away before the others think I have murdered you,” Thorin's voice is close to me and he's hovering over, not looming this time but hovering. “Balin will have my beard if he thinks I have aggrieved you. I've never known him to be so protective of a human.”

“Then let us return,” I stand up, letting him lead the way back.

“We do not speak of this to the others. Any of this conversation. Agreed?” he asks before we are about to turn the corner to the mezzanine.

“Agreed.”

“And for the record, ranger, I prefer the hunting attire. Elves have no sense of style for one like you.”

“One like me?”

“A fighter.”

“I see. Perhaps stick to calling me Raven-Bearer rather than ranger though.”

“Understood, though in time the others should know. You trust them more than I, after all.”

The talking ceases as we come back into the line of sight of the company and money bags are exchanged between some of them.

“What's going on?” Thorin is puzzled, as am I.

“We took bets on whether you were going to spar or not,” Dwalin huffs, parting with his bag.

“I said I would talk to the Raven-Bearer and so I have,” Thorin scowls, returning to his usual demeanour. “Now, let us continue with this....if you can call it food.”

“You know, I really would like some chips about now,” Ori sighs, his bowl still full.

**

I was in the room given to me during the dark hours as I was restocking my arrows, trying not to overload the quiver but also worrying about when I would next be able to gain stock.

I was halfway through changing back into my hunting armour when Thorin burst through the door. I did not have time to cover my woefully underclad torso and he was treated to the sight of the large scar spanning my torso.

“What has gotten into you?!” I grab for my shirt, holding it protectively over me as he soundlessly gapes.

“I apologise, ranger but we are leaving and we are leaving now. You must gather your things and make haste with us. I shall wait outside the door. My apologies again.”

I dress first before strapping everything back and meeting up with Thorin again outside who quietly nods and leads me to the high pass where the company is waiting, bar Gandalf.

“Where is the wizard?” I ask.

“We cannot wait,” Thorin answers as the line files outwards with us at the back. “Lord Elrond has told us our time is limited to find the hidden door into Erebor. We must reach the Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day. The Grey Wanderer will have to catch up, though I do not feel easy about leaving him behind.”

“His comings and goings never meant he would be a permanent companion, anyhow,” I reason.

“I....” Thorin trails off, slowing a little so a gulf of distance starts between the back of the line and ourselves. “I am ashamed to have burst in on you in a state of undress. I did not mean-”

“-I know you did not. You could not possibly have known, Thorin.”

“That...the scar. That's a bite mark from a great beast.”

“It is.”

“Will you tell me sometime what happened?”

“When we trust each other better.”

“That is fair,” he nods. “Come, we should speed up, Raven-Bearer. The Misty Mountains await.”


	4. Through the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Rivendell the company is caught in a storm. Faced with stone giants, a cliff face and slippery rocks, can you make it to the other side?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Minor peril
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

The way was cold, bitterly cold as the rain hammered down upon us.

I had no idea how some of the more hirsute dwarves were able to see through thick eyebrows, thick hair and the ends of their beards whipping up into their face with the wind but they were more dextrous than I gave them credit for. If anything it made me feel less agile myself.

I was mainly preoccupied with shielding Bilbo from the worst of the storm. He weighed considerably less than any other member of the company and was prone to suddenly pitching violently to one side when the bluster hit him. Considering we were edging around a cliff face, I kept the hobbit very close to me indeed.

Thorin had resumed his position at the front, forging on despite being soaked to the bone. He had made small talk for a little while longer as we left Rivendell but it was clear he felt uncomfortable with everyone else potentially overhearing so deigned to take control of the party once more.

Rathak was trying his best to follow alongside but the gale was so severe that I had to pluck him from the air and hide him in my cloak. He squawked a little pathetically, miserable that his feathers were so sodden and I caught the glance from the dwarven King as I coddled him from the maelstrom.

I would like to think it was a glance of approval that I was taking proper care of a raven of Erebor but I never knew with Thorin Oakenshield what was going on in his mind. He was as changeable as the weather.

“Help!” Bilbo slips and I catch him before he falls off the cliff. “Ohhhh I do not like this. I do not like this at all. I could be in Bag End with a nice rarebit and a roaring fire.”

“And I could be tanning my leathers in front of my fire right now,” I sigh a little wistfully before letting him regain his footing. “If we ever return, Master Baggins, I would beg your hospitality for a night so I can see how hobbits live. You make it sound so inviting.”

“If we ever return, you can visit whenever you like,” he smiles brightly, even though his face is chapped from the cold. “In fact I'll do a feast in your bloody honour if we get back alive.”

“I've never had a feast in my name before. Now as much as you protest, hold onto the cloak or my belt. It won't do to fall here.”

“I'm not that proud,” his little hand loops through my scabbard belt. “I can admit when I am very out of my depth.”

“Look at that!” Kíli points and my attention is brought to a giant stone being that towers above us that seems to be from the very mountain itself.

It wrenches a boulder, flinging it our way and I get the urge to duck but it sails overhead to a stone giant behind us. It's at that point Rathak begins panicking and rattling off the raven-tongue so quickly I barely understand it.

When I finally translate in my head, my stomach drops and I yell as loudly as I can over the rain battered dwarves.

“THORIN!” my voice is caught by the air. “THORIN, WE'RE ON A GIANT! RUN! RUN QUICKLY!”

They can't hear me though.

“Bilbo, come with me. We have to warn them before the giant wakes up,” I grab his hand and hurry up the line.

It's precarious, slippery and I daren't look to my right at the sheer drop as I push past most of the company to get to Thorin.

“What is it, Raven-Bearer?” he looks alert.

“We're on a giant also, a slumbering one. We need to move quickly. Get everyone to that outcrop there. Rathak says it's safe.”

It was a mark of our strengthening trust that he didn't even question me any more. He just shouted instructions that got passed down the line and everyone jostled to get off the giant but Bilbo was knocked by Dori as he passed and wobbled on the edge for a few seconds before disappearing out of sight.

“BILBO!” I try to get to him but Bofur is quicker and dives down, hanging onto a branch growing out of the side of the cliff face.

When I reach the precipice, Bofur is hoisting Bilbo back up with a great effort and Bifur, Glóin and Fíli were grabbing onto the hobbit's waistcoat to drag him back to safety. Combined, they managed to pull him to safer ground but I'd seen another problem starting.

Bofur's grip on the branch was failing and I shoved Dwalin out of the way as the last inch of Bofur's fingers left the wood and I dropped down the sheer rock face to straddle the branch and grab his hand. I was aware the branch was breaking, my weight and Bofur's too much for it but with all the strength I could muster, I made sure Bofur was lifted up to his waiting companions.

How he kept his hat on through all of this was a mystery to me but a mystery I did not have long to contemplate.

I felt gravity pull at me as I fell, trying to scrabble at the rough stone but I couldn't get purchase. This was the end of me, I was sure of it. Rathak never moved from his nook half in my tunic, determined to meet the same fate.

Only it wasn't my fate to die today.

Someone grabbed my arms and my knees hit an outcrop, juddering along the bone and I looked up to see Thorin holding onto me tightly, his legs being supported by the other dwarves as he dangled into the nothing space.

“Pull us up!” he calls over his shoulder before turning to me as everyone heaved us aloft. “I will not let go, ranger. I promise.”

When I finally crested the rocky lip, I stumbled into the wall opposite, losing my footing and sinking onto the ground. I took Thorin down with me who ended up in a heap on top of my body and my vision, for all of a few moments, was just his intricate braids.

“My apologies, Raven-Bearer,” he rolls off me before addressing the company. “We need to seek shelter. Find an overhang or a cave.”

I tried to get up but my legs were still shaking and weak. It took several tries and Bilbo had to offer his shoulder for me to brace myself on before I was able to follow everyone else.

“Thank you, Raven-Eyed,” Bofur bows to me. “I thought I was a goner for a moment there.”

“Aye, the lassie did very well,” Balin pats me on the shoulder.

“No, you all did. I would've died if you hadn't of worked together,” I nod to them.

“We don't leave our brothers to die...or our sisters,” Dwalin says gruffly over his shoulder.

“So I'm an honorary dwarf, am I?” I manage a smile as we clear the stone giant just as it starts waking up.

“I wouldn't go that far,” Dwalin raises an eyebrow. “You're too smooth for a start. Get some hair on that chest and we might consider calling you dwarf sister properly.”

“Dwalin!” Kíli admonishes him.

“Kíli, he's joking with me,” I laugh, shaking my head. “Now help me up this rock. I think I injured my knee and I cannot keep squashing Master Baggins using him as a crutch.”

“I don't mind, honestly,” Bilbo tries to protest but I can see he's wincing as he steps with me.

“Come, Bilbo, I'll take over,” Kili allows me to lean my weight on him to guide me towards the cave that Nori has found.

When I reach the top, Thorin's eyes narrow a little at seeing me limp along.

“You didn't tell me you were hurt,” the tone is accusatory. “Kíli get inside and help with the fire. I'll take the Raven-Bearer the rest of the way.”

“If you're sure, Uncle,” Kíli nods before handing me off to the dwarven king who seems to have reverted to hostility again.

“It's not severe, just bruised in the wrong place,” I try to explain but he's already put my arm around his shoulder and his arm around my waist to support me.

“You still should have told me. I need to know everyone's condition in case something happens.”

“I'll endeavour to disclose it the next time then,” I grimace as my leg nearly buckles from under me.

Evidently I hit the cliff face harder than I thought.

“Stop. Rest here,” he sets me down on a boulder that's out of the storm and rain before crouching next to me. “It's worse than you're telling me, isn't it?”

“It's just shaky. It's not broken though.”

“Then I'll strap it up when we get inside but only when you feel up to it,” he stands up.

At this height he's looking down at me and I expect to see exasperation but all I see is concern instead. We stay there for a couple of minutes before I'm able to try again and I finally get in the cave to see the others have already started a fire. Rathak flies out of my tunic and goes to dry himself off, showering everyone with droplets as he shakes his feathers.

Thorin leaves me to fetch healing equipment from Ori's bag before returning and taking me to the darkest corner of the cave.

“You'll need to remove your trousers so I can do this properly. Ask for the hobbit if you do not feel comfortable with me continuing,” he looks up through his rivulets of soaked hair.

“Just....just shield me as best as you can,” I bite at my lip. “I do not let anyone see what is underneath my clothing for reasons which you have only seen a little of.”

“The scar?”

“Yes.”

“There are more on your legs?”

“Yes,” it's almost a whisper.

“Raven-Bearer, they are nothing to be ashamed of. I have many scars myself.”

“But you are male and a king. The race of men...women are not meant to be marred.”

“Then damn what is meant to be. Dwarven men long for their women to have fight and fire within them, to have lived a life. Woe betide any human male who picks a fight with a dwarven woman. I have seen the outcome for myself once and it did not end well for the lad. So do not judge your standards of beauty based on your men that try to make you lesser to bolster their own position.”

This speech was said with such viciousness that I didn't know how to respond for a while.

“Oh to be born a dwarf,” I settled upon.

“You would make a fine one. Though you are the best of your race I have ever met.”

“High praise indeed coming from a king.”

“Oh hush, let me get on with my duty,” he almost seems embarrassed as he readies the bandages and tiny splints.

The moment I have been dreading arrives and I push, yank and struggle with the wet fabric until my legs are laid bare and he can see the divots in the flesh, even more pronounced in the fire light. A matching set of bite marks for my torso. A continuation.

Thorin's hand is hovering over my thigh like he wants to touch the scars but thinks better of it and starts concentrating on strapping up my weaker knee.

The tension is getting too much for me. I can feel the burning question he wants to ask and it hangs between us like some grotesque spectre.

“If you're just going to stare at me like that, I'll tell you. It was a White Wolf,” I blurt out.

“A White Wolf? So far into Eriador?”

“The Brandywine froze over one year. It was bitterly cold. They came from the north across the ice and they slaughtered the rangers' village. I was young, not a child but young. They'd started training me but nothing could've prepared me for that.”

“How did you escape?” Thorin seems enraptured, hanging on my every word as he tied off the bandage and experimentally flexed my knee to make sure it was stiff enough.

“I had help. The Wolves, they're smarter than anyone knows. They targeted the women and the children. They wanted to ensure the Númenórean line would produce no more heirs, that that Dúnedain rangers would die out eventually and they'd be free to run ragged over the lands. My mother was ripped apart in front of me.”

I barely noticed Thorin was softly stroking my leg with the pad of his thumb. I was too entrenched in painful memories.

“The son of our leader, he was called Aragorn, he stood his ground before a Wolf so I could flee. All of the women who were still alive were fleeing. We needed to survive. So I ran but I was being hunted. Another Wolf caught up to me, got me in its maw and was going to bite through my body but I was saved.”

“Who saved you?”

“Gandalf,” I look into his eyes, dark pools of water staring back at me. “Gandalf saved me, brought me to Radagast who healed me. Together they helped me start a new life. Radagast taught me the language of beasts and how to live off the land. Gandalf found me a home that had previously been abandoned. In a way, I was more trained than any Dúnedain ranger before me.”

“Have you seen your kind since that day?”

“Gandalf brought Arathorn, our leader, to me and it was agreed I would watch over a certain area of land but I could not return to the village again. It was too dangerous. I have been alone ever since, except for my rare visits to Bree. It's been around thirty years.”

“Thirty years?!” Thorin removes his hand and goggles at me incredulously. “Aren't you meant to be greying by now? Wrinkling around the eyes?”

“The Númenórean line can live as long as a dwarf can in theory but most of us are killed before we can die of old age.”

“By Durin, I've learned more from this conversation than I have in years,” he shakes his head. “I am sorry for your losses but know that your scars are not a thing to hide. Be proud of your survival. Perhaps I should call you the Wolf-Kissed instead?”

“I don't think Rathak would like it if Raven wasn't somewhere in my title,” I quip and he laughs, genuinely smiling in a way that catches me off guard.

I had never seen him smile so brightly before and maybe it was a sign that I was slowly being accepted by this one hostile King under the Mountain. I would like to think so.

“Come, you should redress and then dry off by the fire,” he stands up. “And thank you, for trusting me with your story. I shall not repeat it.”

“And thank you for helping with my leg.”

“We all look after each other here, Raven-Bearer. You are part of our Company, after all.”

“Is that why you saved me?”

I had been meaning to bring it up. It would've been easy to let me die when Thorin had a famous hatred for humans but he'd risked his life for mine.

“Of course. When I saw you rescue Bofur, I knew you would do anything to keep us safe and so I returned that sentiment. You are a true friend to us, this I know. Believe me, it has been hard to overcome my own prejudices but I know in my heart you are with us to the end.”

“If this is to end in fire then we shall all burn together,” I glance at him, acutely aware that once we reached the Lonely Mountain, our survival odds became extremely low.

“Oh that you were born a dwarf indeed,” he murmurs cryptically before rejoining the circle around the fire and settling between Fíli and Balin.

I did not understand what he meant by that but I brushed it aside as I pulled the soaked through trousers back on and pushed through the revulsion at the feeling of cold creeping back into my bones. I was by the fire very quickly after that, in between Bilbo and Kíli who handed me some sausages.

The food chased away some of the cold and as the night wore on, I finally became dry.

“I will take the first watch,” Thorin announces. “Everyone get some sleep.”

“Nice of him,” Bilbo settles down under his blanket and I do the same. “Do you know, nearly falling to my death has made me quite exhausted?”

“I know precisely what you mean,” I grin back.

“I'm beginning to feel rather cared for with these lot,” he whispers so no one else can hear. “I didn't expect anyone but you to try to rescue me.”

“The dwarves of Erebor are full of surprises it seems.”

“Good night, Raven-Eyed.”

“Good night, Master Baggins.”

But before I settled in, I met Thorin's gaze across the fire which was much softer than I was expecting. I even chanced a smile to him which he returned, if a little more reserved than mine.

Finally I felt like belonged on this quest. Finally I thought things were going right.

I believed that up until a hatch opened up beneath us and we all fell into the darkness.


	5. The Realm of the Goblin King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You fall into the depths of the Misty Mountains, far away from the Company and you'll need to use your wits to escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Claustrophobic situations, underwater peril
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

We fell as one, rolling down a slope towards a set of bridges that spanned as far as I could see. I could barely focus as my world revolved and revolved until I came to a stop, half hanging off the wooden slats towards a throne containing the largest Goblin I had ever seen.

The rest of the Company managed to stay firmly around the dais but I couldn't see Bilbo anywhere. I struggled, trying to hook my leg up so I could climb to safety but a goblin approached me, sneering down at my efforts.

“Hmmm a band of dwarves and one human?” the large Goblin that I assumed was the king spoke.

“Pull her up!” Thorin demands, getting to his feet. “For Durin's sake! Pull her up!”

“I think not,” the Goblin King grins, his bulbous chin drawing up in glee. “Kill the pet human. You need to understand you are in _my_ realm now.”

“RAVEN-BEARER!” I hear Thorin bellowing as my hands are stamped upon and I lose my grip, falling once more.

It's so fast that I barely have time to process it. I bounce off the rock, my skin bruising and then crash through bridge after bridge, wooden beams assaulting my back as I tumble further into the void beneath me. All I can hear is my own breathing, when the wind is knocked out of me, when I gasp for air and the steady panic of my heartbeat as I wonder if I'm about to die.

Down and down into the Misty Mountains I fall until the way narrows and I'm scraping my body as I plummet down a tunnel. With one final crack to my head, I lose consciousness and succumb to whatever fate may come for me.

**

I awake with the sound of my blood pulsing in my ears and pressure in my face.

I think I'm hanging upside down and my hidden necklace, one of the last relics of the city of Fornost is hugging my cheeks as the pendant dangles in my eyes. Experimentally, I try to see around me but the gloom is impenetrable. Then I pull myself to whatever is keeping me from falling further and feel a net that my boot has gotten twisted in.

I have no way of knowing what's underneath me but I cannot stay like this. So I fish in my pouch carefully and drop one coin below me until I hear a splash that doesn't sound too far away.

Perhaps I am above a lake? Seemed deep enough from the reverberation to land into.

I make the decision to cut my leg free with the dagger in my belt and when I hit the water, I almost forget how to breathe. It's cold, a cold that reminds me of the Brandywine when I nearly plunged under the ice in my haste to flee.

There's searing pain in my knee when I try to swim, the injury aggravated from earlier but I make it to something that feels like land and haul myself out, trying to assess the damage. Thorin's strapping had taken the worst of the jolt to my joints but I needed a day or two to rest it. I would get no such rest here though if I wanted to stay alive.

My immediate problem was sight. I could not see my own hands down here and I was sure something unfriendly might find me if I lingered too long. I thought back to Radagast and his teachings on the nocturnal creatures of Middle Earth and attempted a very poor rendition of the Beast Tongue that catered towards them.

“If anything can light my way, please help me,” I tried to say.

When the darkness remained heavy on my eyes, I gave up hope, knowing I would have to blindly find my way out. All I had were my swords left to defend my body, the bow I had lovingly maintained all these years having splintered on the way down and the quiver dashed into pieces.

Then, all of sudden, a soft blue glow met my eyes and as one, a section of the cavern luminesced until I could see the underground lake and the jagged rocks I had barely missed as I dropped into the water.

“Thank you,” I told the glo-worms and then whatever creature resided in the water that had decided to light my way also. “Can you show me the way out? I'm lost.”

The wall moved, a slithering that started on the land and then dropped down towards the water. My heart clenched as the front of the mass of worms stopped just at the edge and the creature underneath became my lead.

“I'll have to dive?” I ask, trying to explain the concept by pointing at the lake.

“Yes. Under,” tiny voices call back. “Not far.”

I hoped they were right. I could only hold my breath for so long and I wasn't as small as a goblin.

Tentatively I got back in the freezing water and took several practising gulps of air before diving under. I still couldn't see what the creature was that was guiding me but I followed the pulsing blue light.

My fear was rising the longer it took and the way was getting smaller. I was able to push off the rocks with my hands and feet to give me extra speed but if it narrowed much more, I would be trapped and I could not go back in time to take a breath.

The need was consuming me, burning in my chest as I carried on, desperately praying that this was not a trick. I couldn't swim for much longer before I'd drown.

I had to put one hand over my mouth, pressing hard to stop me from giving into the urge to breathe and just at the point where I was getting dizzy, the light went upwards as the tunnel opened out and I kicked hard off the ground, swimming with all my remaining strength until my head broke the surface and I gulped sweet air down.

“Thank you,” I say to the creature.

“Too many rotten things fall in my lake,” it spoke back. “Don't want another thing to rot. Doesn't taste good.”

And with that it disappears back into the tunnel.

I can see a sliver of light ahead and I make my way towards it, climbing over rocks and squeezing through gaps. If I escaped, I never wished to see a set of caves again. Erebor had better not be this narrow.

Eventually I was coming to a crossed path, wondering where I should turn next when shouting caught my attention and I ducked behind a boulder, peering above. Was I ready to take on a goblin scouting party? I did not know. I felt vulnerable without my bow and my leg was protesting fiercely.

Then I heard Dori's voice followed by Bombur's bombastic tones as the Company sped past me going in the adjacent direction. I blinked and saw Gandalf with them again.

They were being chased by some goblins so I hung back until I could see no more bodies running by and took up my own chase. If Gandalf was with them, no doubt they would find the exit. The wizard never let himself be captured.

The light was getting brighter and brighter but the goblins were recoiling from it, too used to the dark and they were blocking my way. Five of them were in front but the width of the corridor meant only two could attack me at a time. I could fight my way out.

With stealth, I crept forward, sticking one from behind through the chest before withdrawing my sword and cutting the head off of the other one. Three were left and it was evident they did not spar well. I was soon surrounded by goblin corpses.

A noise from behind me made me whirl around, blade ready to attack. Had I been flanked?

“Raven-Eyed!” a familiar voice and a small pattering of feet.

“Bilbo!” I lean down and hug the hobbit to me, so grateful that he's alive. “What happened to you?”

“Rolled the wrong way. Ended up in the caves. What about you? You look like you've seen better days.”

“Rolled the wrong way. Ended up in a lake,” I laugh softly. “Come on before they realise we're escaping.”

So we leave the Misty Mountains together and out into the sparse woods in front of us. I'm limping heavily and I know he can see it but he doesn't comment, merely offers his shoulder to me to help me along.

“I thought I was going to die in there,” he admits. “I've never been that scared in my life.”

“But you made it through. You are the bravest of your kind I have ever heard of, Master Baggins.”

“Nice of you to say,” he looks up, smiling. “Seems wrong that I come away unscathed though and you're the most beaten up of the lot of us.”

“That is the ranger's duty. To put our body first before the evils of this world to protect those more important,” I say without thinking.

But the hobbits of the Shire must have been sheltered indeed to not recognise my words and, in its own way, that's what the Rangers of the North aspired to maintain; that the peoples of Eriador remain safe and unworried by what lies to the North. Bilbo showed no signs of understanding, only polite annoyance in his answer.

“Yes well, I think the human being our shield when this is a dwarven matter is just not on, frankly. Thorin should be doing more to protect _you_. You're the hunter after all for his stupid bloody stone.”

“And you're the burglar,” I give him a look. “And yet we are the two bringing up the rear.”

“What I wouldn't give for some ale in the Green Dragon right now,” he sighs.

“Anything warm would be pleasant for me.”

“Oh they do the most marvellous stews. Rabbit, deer....oh dear,” his stomach rumbles noisily. “I'd best stop talking about it.”

“Probably wise,” I chuckle. “I think I see them.”

The trees were becoming more dense but I could hear the sounds of an argument that got more clear as we approached.

“-how did you lose my hobbit and my hunter?!” Gandalf booms.

“They fell into the darkness!” Thorin argues back. “I tried to do something!”

“Well it wasn't enough! Two lives wasted for your quest, two _important_ lives, Thorin.”

“You do not have to weigh me with guilt when I am already burdened with it,” the dwarven King's voice is cracking. “If I could go in their stead I would.”

“Your Company might be better for it. We must go before we are surrounded by scouting parties.”

“A few minutes more, please,” Thorin begs. “If they are still alive, we shall not abandon them.”

“Very well.”

“Apparently we're more liked than we thought,” Bilbo whispers to me.

“Never let them forget this moment if they're horrible to us in the future,” I whisper back.

“Oh I don't intend to,” the hobbit winks.

It was Kíli who spotted us first, rushing over to help me walk whilst shouting, “They're here! They're alive!”

As we came through the tree line, all the dwarves and Gandalf were on their feet. We were greeted with many smiles, many smiles except one.

Thorin was looking at me with an unreadable expression as Kíli aided my steps and then I was mobbed with dwarves embracing me, patting me on the back and shaking my hand.

“Kíli, don't mob the woman. Let her breathe,” Thorin barks and his nephew obeys. “Sit, Raven-Bearer.”

But I don't. I embrace Gandalf who grins warmly at me.

“Tell Radagast that his nocturnal cave beasts lessons came in handy.”

“Oh I am sure he will be delighted. I never could stay awake for those teachings myself,” Gandalf chuckles. “Welcome back, my hunter. Sturdier than most of your kind.”

“Raven-Bearer, _sit down_ ,” Thorin's order cuts through the levity.

It's harsh and authoritative, causing the entire Company to fall silent. I just stare at the King under the Mountain in surprise.

“Are you not happy to see me well, Thorin?” I can't help but ask.

“You are _not_ well, Raven-Bearer. Your injury is worse. Sit down and I will do what I can but if you keep standing there, making it more unpleasant then I will _make_ you sit down.”

“Try it,” the old hostility rises up.

“Stop fighting, the pair a' you,” Balin interjects. “The lass knows her limits and she's just thankful to be out in one piece. Don't give her a hard time.”

“I will give her as hard a time as I need to to ensure she is at her best. If she wishes to act like a child then I will treat her as one.”

“And if you wish to act like a tyrant, then we shall come to blows again,” I hiss back before the pain in my knee causes me to buckle.

I hit the ground, gasping and I'm expecting some barbed remark from Thorin but it doesn't come. Instead I'm lifted up and placed on a log by none other than the dwarven king himself.

“Listen to me,” he puts his hand on my cheek. “I am not saying these things to curtail your freedoms. I do this to help you.”

“You could at least be nicer about it,” I wince when he straightens my leg.

“I haven't the time for niceties,” he's pressing, waiting to hear when the pain is great before using the last of the bandages over my trousers to give more support. “This will not hold well but I shall save you your dignity. We shall have to carry on before we are surrounded. Can you manage until we are in safer territories?”

“I think so.”

“Then let us away. Dwalin, should the Raven-Bearer need assistance, give it. Keep her safe. No one left behind.”

“Understood,” Dwalin nods.

“Come on,” Bilbo lets me use him to help get myself to my feet before we set off once more.

I'm unsteady but managing. Thorin lingers until most of the Company is in front before speaking to me once more.

“Ranger, I did not mean to cause you ire,” he starts. “We were worried and you have taken many injuries within the Misty Mountains. Tell me what happened.”

“I fell,” I recount for him. “I fell until I hit my head and when I woke up, my bad leg was trapped in netting. I had to cut myself free and fall into a pitch black freezing cold lake and swim underwater to find the way out. I'm lucky I found Bilbo on the way. You did not seem concerned with finding him.”

“That is unfair!” he sounds offended. “I wanted to go back. I wanted to search but the others...a king's duty is to his people. If I were to die, they would never reach Erebor, never see their home again. Do not mistake my duty for choice, Raven-Bearer. Had I been free to make the decision, I would not have rested until I found you and Master Baggins. You have pledged me your lives on this quest and it is not something I take lightly. You have no loyalty to us but I have every loyalty to you.”

“Well....” I trail off, suddenly uncomfortable with looking at him directly. I change the subject instead. “I shall need that bow you promised after all. Mine was destroyed.”

“I'm sorry. It did look well crafted.”

“One more relic of Arthedain lost.”

“And yet I see another around your neck. It looks elven.”

“The Fire of Elros,” I pat the orange gem before tucking it into my tunic again. “I shouldn't even possess it, I'm not the direct heir but it was given down my line. It is supposed to contain one flicker of flame to aid a civilisation but I would have to break it to see if that is true.”

“Elros,” Thorin muses as we carry on towards the ridge. “The half elf?”

“Yes.”

“Elves and humans...”

“I imagine the idea is repulsive to dwarves.”

“Not at all,” Thorin surprises me with his answer. “It is the only way to make elves bearable.”

I stop, amazed he has made a joke before laughing and my weariness lifts a little as he smiles back. Then I stop again as I catch a scent on the air and I make the calling sound to Rathak, hoping he managed to escape the fall. I needed eyes that could roam farther than mine.

“There is danger?” Thorin's hand falls to his sword.

“I think so, I.....wargs!”

“RUN!” Thorin bellows at the others and within seconds the wargs and their riders are bearing down upon us.

We have nowhere to run to though. The cliff faces us and teeth face our backs.

“In the trees!” Gandalf yells, boosting some of the heavier dwarves into the branches.

As I'm climbing, my knee gives way and I slip, hitting the ground with a thud as all my companions make it to safety.

“Give me your hand!” Fíli extends his down but I brush it away. “What are you doing?! Take it!”

A pale orc is at the front of the pack, a blade forced through the stump of his arm as a rudimentary weapon. I had heard from Balin about him and what terror he had brought down upon the dwarves.

Azog the Defiler.

I chose in that moment not to try and save myself. Wargs I knew their weak spots. I could take maybe two, possibly three if I was agile enough still. That would give the others enough time to find another way to escape.

“RANGER!” Thorin calls as I ready my sword. “STOP!”

I do not know Orcish words but I know when I am being mocked. Azog laughs coldly and sends one of his other warg riders to go in for the easy kill. I wait and I wait until the last possible second then dive low, skidding along the ground as I open the warg up from throat to tail. Entrails spill over my legs but I get up, growling with the pain and finish off the surprised orc who's on their back underneath the lump of dead fur.

“I will not go easily into the night!” I scream at Azog whose grin had turned into a sneer of contempt.

Two wargs were approaching and I knew I couldn't use the same tactics again. I would have to think quickly.

Plumes of fire burst around me, driving the wargs back for a moment but one got through and I leapt to the side, pivoting on the balls of my feet to hammer my dagger into the warg's throat before pulling it out and throwing it at the rider where it lodged in his eye but he'd already swung a hammer at me, knocking me backwards and down, down into the path of the other warg.

Another maw was bared to me before clamping down on my arm. The leather of my vambraces was thick, tough and the teeth didn't penetrate but I was dragged and tossed until I was staring at the darkening sky, too winded to get up.

The paws approached, signalling the doom to come but other footsteps joined and Bilbo leapt from nowhere, sword held aloft to bury it within the warg's skull. Meanwhile Thorin cut the head off the rider and charged straight at Azog as Bilbo tried to pull me to safety behind the fire.

I watched as the dwarven king did a valiant effort to bring down The Defiler but the warg was quicker and Thorin was within its teeth, crying out with the pain as I heard something crack in his body.

“Help him,” I bid Bilbo. “I'll be alright.”

The hobbit rushes off with a bravery that I had always known he had, sword bared for another attack.

Dwalin had already climbed down, getting me by the scruff of the tunic and dragging me towards the trees. When I saw Thorin get thrown through the air, I tried to get to my feet as he was in danger again. He wasn't even moving from what I could tell.

“Let me go!” I fight with Dwalin, trying to get purchase. “He'll die if I don't go!”

“The king told me to keep you safe so I will keep you safe,” Dwalin growls at me, his grip getting firmer. “Even if we lose him. He was adament we do not abandon you again.”

But I keep struggling. In the end, Dwalin, Glóin and Bifur have to restrain me as some of the others rush in to help Thorin and only then do I submit, only then do I allow myself to sag in their grasp.

There's a caw from the trees and I look to see Rathak on the branch. He's babbling to me in earnest about the eagles that are coming, that we will be alright if we hold fast a little longer.

I glance up at Gandalf in the tree who just nods, knowing I understand what's about to happen.

In a blur of wings, we're snatched up in great talons or riding on feathered backs. All of us are being rescued by the Great Eagles and I feel myself close my eyes, take stock of my battered body and just relish the sensation of the winds around me.

I'm not sure whether I fell unconscious or slept but the next thing I knew, Gandalf was above me, chanting some words and I had a vile substance shoved under my nose to rouse me. My leg, as I soon noticed, was markedly better when I gained full awareness.

“Ah good, you're awake,” the wizard smiles. “You did give us quite the fright.”

“Is everyone alright?” I ask.

“Everything's fine, Master Hunter. We all made it out. In fact, I think someone wants to speak to you. He's already spoken to Master Baggins.”

He offers me his hand to pull me up and I see Bilbo, ash covered and drenched in sweat but well and hearty. He looks delighted for some reason.

Then the rest of the Company parts to allow Thorin to approach and Gandalf leaves my side to look over the others.

“Raven-Bearer,” Thorin is quiet, modest in his tone. “I never thought I would meet a human that is so utterly reckless, idiotic and stubborn-”

“-I think-” I'm about to be offended but he quells me with a hand.

“-But those are the qualities I possess also. Dwalin told me you fought him hard to try and save me and standing off against Azog alone to buy us time...I am forever humbled. The loyalty you have shown the dwarves of Erebor...we do not deserve it. The wounds you have taken for us...I can never express our gratitude. I am glad Gandalf led us to your door and I am honoured you are with us. You are truly one of us, as is Master Baggins. Dwalin is even prepared to call you dwarf sister without the beard requirements. I suppose what I am meaning to say is...thank you. Thank you.”

If ever there was a moment where Thorin would stun me into complete silence, it was when he threw his arms around me and embraced me for the first time. I did not know what to do but I embraced him back until he stepped away, the previous aggression gone to be replaced by warmth.

“Come, Raven-Bearer. See this sight,” he takes my hand and leads me to the edge before pointing to the distance where I see a peak on the horizon. “That, that is our destination.”

“The Lonely Mountain,” I murmur.

“Erebor.”

It takes a moment for him to realise he's still holding my hand and he withdraws it quickly, pointing again.

“We shall take back the mountain and you shall be a friend of Erebor, a trusted friend, welcome any time you please.”

“You really think we can do this?” I lower my voice so the others don't hear.

“I do,” he looks up at me, brows serious. “I have this gut feeling we shall be standing in the Great Hall as the song of the forges starts again and the singing of the mines will join that melody. Are you still with us, ranger?”

“I said until the end and I meant it, Thorin. Even if I die, I will get you to your home because one of us should have the chance to return.”

He smiles at me before looking out at the Lonely Mountain again and starts humming. Gradually the humming becomes words as I watch the same mountain with new determination.

“ _-_ _Fiery mountain beneath the moon. The words unspoken, we'll be there soon. For home a song that echoes on and all who find us will know the tune...._ ”


	6. The House of Beorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chased by Azog's pack, Gandalf leads you to the House of Beorn and the boundaries of Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild peril
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

We ran for days as Azog's pack chased us.

Just as we got comfortable enough to grasp a couple of hours of sleep, I would hear the howling in the distance and we would have to move. I took most of the watches, having the keenest ears and eyes out of all of us as Rathak continuously circled the Company to give me accounts of Azog's movements.

I was tired, the kind of weary that steals your wits and a kind of delirium descended upon me. I would become paranoid, jumping at every sound and clutching the handle of my sword much too hard.

It was even worse when I smelled a scent in the air I had never come across before. Something big, something carnivorous and likely not friendly.

“Ranger,” Thorin whispers to me, not managing to sleep himself. “I'll take this watch.”

“You and I both know why you can't.”

“I may not have as sharp as senses are you, Raven-Bearer but you are no good to us if you are unwell. I see how exhausted you are. Sleep.”

He comes to sit next to me on the log, nudging my knee with his so I'll look at him.

“Please,” he utters the rare word. “Please sleep. You do enough for us. Do not sacrifice your health too before we reach The Lonely Mountain.”

“There's something else out there,” I scan the treeline. “I won't be able to sleep knowing about it.”

“Raven-Bearer,” the tone is admonishing but he seems concerned, brows furrowed together. “Lie down next to me and listen to the songs of Erebor. I promise you will either fall asleep or it will soothe you enough that your worries will fade.”

I knew he was right. I needed rest and I shouldn't take the burden of our safety entirely upon myself. So I reluctantly took his blanket that he offered me and curled up by the log, staring at the grass underneath me.

Thorin's voice was quiet, not wanting to disturb the others but loud enough for me to understand the words.

“ _-_ _On silver necklaces they strung the flowering stars, on crowns they hung the dragon-fire, in twisted wire. They meshed the light of moon and sun-”_

I did not expect to be lulled into the dreamer's sleep as I was. Thorin's voice was just comforting, familiar and, since the Misty Mountains, it was safe. I knew I could count on him to save my life should it come to that.

I dreamed of glittering jewels, mountains of golden coins and crowns that contained white stones so bright that they shone like stars.

“UP! AWAKE!” Thorin booms across the clearing. “The pack is nearly here!”

We scrambled, stuffing blankets into our bags as Gandalf led the Company through the trees. I took Bilbo's hand to help him run faster but that odd smell was back, the large creature.

“We must reach the house!” Gandalf calls back over his shoulder.

“What house?!” Thorin answers.

“It is the only place to be safe!”

Not many of the others caught the 'I think' that Gandalf muttered after that statement.

The big beast was closer now, running us down and the scent made more sense as it drew nearer. A bear. A bear bigger than any I had known of.

As we approached the house, I briefly was concerned with the size of it. Whoever lived here must be tall but the bear was snapping at our heels and I did not have the luxury to ruminate on that thought.

Bilbo and I were in the middle of the Company as we burst through the door, Thorin flipping the catch where the others had momentarily lost their intelligence and congregated by the opening. As quickly as we entered, we spun around to push the doors together as a muzzle came through the gap trying to bite at anything it could.

It took all of us to slam it shut and put the bar back on before we could finally fall back on the ground and catch our breath.

“What _was_ that?” Thorin asks Gandalf.

“That...that was our host,” the wizard answers with a shifted look to the door.

“Our....he's a skinchanger?” the realisation comes to me. “I thought they had died out?”

“Not all, Raven-Eyed. The bear will not come in tonight but when the man appears...things might get a little more complicated. For now, everyone can wash and sleep. My dear hunter, I shall draw you some hot water first given you are the only lady in this Company.”

“I do not-” I was about to protest that I don't need special treatment but Thorin cut in.

“Go first, Raven-Bearer. You shall have privacy, this I promise you.”

So Gandalf took me to an area reserved for a large wooden tub with a pipe connected to the outside. The water was cold but the grey wizard spoke a few words and steam arose within seconds.

“Beorn, the skinchanger, he will have clothing that will fit you should you wish to freshen your clothes,” Gandalf nods before disappearing and coming back with a tunic that looks more like a dress from the length.

“Thank you,” I nod and he gives me a small smile before going out of the curtained area.

To peel away my dirt encrusted, blood encrusted, sweat laden clothes was blessed relief. I dropped them on the floor as I untied my braids that were no longer keeping the flyaways at bay and just sank with a small moan into the warm water.

All the weariness vanished as I sat there, cleaning my skin, using the soap to free my hair of grime. I hadn't felt this light in months.

Eventually I climbed out of the tub, putting on the tunic which hung on me like a parents' clothes on a child and washed my own dirty ones before searching for a fire to dry them off in front of. When I returned through the curtained area, I stopped in place to see Thorin in fresh water.

“I'm sorry!” I turn around hurriedly but I had already seen the top half of him bare above the line of the bath. “I did not think you'd be there when I....I'm sorry!”

He starts laughing, not mockingly but warmly.

“Ranger, if there is one thing I can teach you about dwarves, it is that we do not fear being gazed upon in our natural state as humans do. You do not need to feel alarmed.”

“I am not used to the sight.”

“Of a naked dwarf?”

“Of _any_ naked person. I live in solitude if you'll remember.”

The pangs of embarrassment were rife but the dwarven king seem unconcerned. In fact, he seemed amused.

“Have you not been with the men of your kind before?”

“I am no maiden if that's what you're asking,” I end up turning to face him out of annoyance.

“Then do not be so highly strung, Raven-Bearer. Any tenser and we can use you as a bow string.”

“Just because dwarves are so free in matters of the heart and desire does not mean-”

“-we are _not_ frivolous with our love,” he interrupts me, the tone becoming offended. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me now and I will explain.”

So reluctantly I do and my eyes and skills being what they are, I cannot help but catalogue the broad shoulders, the forearms that are twice as thick as mine and the biceps thicker still. Great angular tattoos sprawl across his arms and chest in patterns that hold no meaning for me but I found myself wanting to know their story.

“There are so few dwarven females, only a third of our total kind scholars estimate. As such they are treated with reverence and honour. To court a dwarven lady is a blessing and you do anything to keep her lest she give her heart to someone else. Love is sacred to us. When we marry, we forsake all others and even after a death, a dwarf will not marry again.”

“And to a king is it sacred? Have you a dwarven bride waiting for your return?”

“I will admit I was reckless and a philanderer in my youth, as dishonourable as that is to confess,” he looks at the water. “As the Crown Prince, it was my duty to court as many as I could to find the right queen to rule by my side but I did not find a princess amongst those I have been with. Their ambition was high and their sense of duty low.

To the others though? If you had said that to them you would've caused a fight. Do not speak of it again.”

Silence fell, the only noise the muffled chattering of the rest of the Company outside as they readied themselves for rest.

“I have much to learn about Dwarven culture I think,” I murmur.

“Forgive me,” he sighs. “It is easy to become riled and forget you know nothing of us.”

“It sounds pleasant,” I sit on the chair next to the bath, facing him. “Having one person to spend your days with who won't become bored of you, try to leave you for another. The one time I courted a man, he betrayed me with the barmaid of the Prancing Pony and so I have closed my heart off ever since. “

“That man was a fool,” Thorin scowls. “The barmaid was hideous if it is the same one I saw a year ago.”

I give a small chuckle, “I believe she is. I visited there some twelve days before you arrived at my door.”

“Truly, was that man poor of sight? The chance to love a brave and kind ranger and he squandered it for an extra pull of ale.”

“I'm brave and kind, am I?”

The tip of his nose turned red as he sank into the bath further, “You are. What of it?”

“Nice of you to say. I shall take my leave or the others will never get to clean themselves.”

I was about to stand up when he placed his huge hand on my shoulder, “I will teach you more about my kind in the quiet moments...if you are wanting to learn, of course.”

“Then I shall teach you more about my people as well. The Dúnedain, that is.”

“I look forward to it. Go now, Raven-Bearer. I am about to stand and although your countenance has become less meek around me, I fear you may be overwhelmed at seeing the full sight of me.”

“And what if I were to be underwhelmed?” I cannot help but quip.

He stares at me for a moment before grinning, “Oh I do not think that will be possible. Go.”

Once I had gotten beyond the curtain, I found Bilbo had prepared me a nesting spot and was awaiting his turn after Thorin.

“You took your time,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Thorin and I talked. He's been much more pleasant to me.”

“Well that's good but uh....you talked in the bath? Is there something I'm missing here?”

“It's not like that Bilbo,” I lower my voice.

“Isn't it? I don't hear him singing for anyone else.”

“He's a dwarf and I a human. Do not read into what is not there, Master Baggins.” I shoo him towards the curtain but he just shrugs his shoulders at me before disappearing behind it.

In truth, I believed I had crossed a barrier just now with the King under the Mountain. I had openly been flirtatious with him and he had responded to that. I cannot remember the last time I had felt so free around another person as to exchange honeyed and thorned words like this.

I did not get the chance to contemplate much on the matter before I managed to fall asleep, despite the din of the others, my sleepless nights finally catching up to me.

**

Beorn, as I came to know, was the last of the skinchangers.

He was not overly happy to see dwarves in his house but there was a moment of eye contact we shared where I think he understood we both had the call of nature in our veins. From then on, he addressed his questions solely to Gandalf and I.

We were told to head to Mirkwood forest to cut through towards the Lonely Mountain that way but once we got there, Gandalf brokered bad news.

“I shall have to leave you here,” he readies his horse. “I would not go unless it were urgent. Stick to the path. The waters are enchanted and many illusions will try to addle your mind but _do not stray from the path_. Raven-Eyed, get them to safety. You know how forests are and this one is formidable.”

“I will.”

But when I looked through the Elven gate to Mirkwood, a chill crept into my bones. Something was very wrong with this place. There was a malingering sickness in the trees and the air smelled musty as it wafted out to us.

Even Rathak refused to come with us, squawking his displeasure before taking flight and assuring me he would meet me on the other side.

“What is it?” Bilbo tugs at my sleeve.

“Be on your guard,” I take my sword out. “Everyone, follow me.”

The path was made of broken stones, nearly obscured by moss but I tracked the way diligently until all the light of the sun was obscured and only a dim gloom remained. The air was close, cloying and full of pollen but I pressed on.

I could hear Bofur complaining about his breathing, Ori nervously tapping at the string of his slingshot and Bombur's laboured sighs that seemed so loud in the silence. Where were the animals? The insects?

“I do not like it here,” I mutter to Balin. “This forest is diseased, infected by magic and darkness. Not even Fangorn is this dark.”

“Well if _you're_ worried, we should be for definite,” Balin draws his own weapon out. “Lead on, lassie.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something white and large but when I turned to get a better look, it was gone. I was not sure if this were some beast or an illusion that Gandalf had spoken of.

I kept seeing it, just at the periphery of my vision but never when I glanced straight on.

We reached a bridge which had fallen into disrepair and the only way to cross was the heavy vines that spanned the gap. We did not fancy dipping our toes in enchanted waters after all.

Bilbo was sent across first, being the lightest of us but he struggled, nearly falling into the river at times until dropping like a stone on the other bank.

The other dwarves had already begun climbing across but my head was swimming and I had to sit down where I was or I might have fallen. I felt drunk, unable to focus and there was a pervasive twisting in my gut that told me I was in incredible danger.

“Raven....Ra......” Thorin slurs as he tries to call across the gap. “Ranger! Ranger, come...come...come here. Not safe.”

I have to crawl to the edge and snake across, barely being agile as the vines creaked with my weight. More than once I believed I was going to fall but by the skin of my teeth did I cling on and keep moving.

I was almost to the other bank when the last vine gave way and I crashed into Kíli who was stumbling near the river. It took Óin and Dori a while to pull me to my feet but when they did, Thorin wrenched me away from them and started marching me to the front of the Company once more.

“Lead us, Raven-Favoured,” he shoves me on. “Do not have time to lie around. You...you...is it time for a lesson? Shall I teach you about dwarven-smithing? Yes...yes I think I shall.”

Thorin tries to steer me to an overturned tree like we're about to have a friendly conversation but I yank my arm away.

“Path. Follow the path,” I manage to get out and start walking.

The haze was greater the further we went into Mirkwood and then the white tormentor of my time here stayed long enough for me to catch a glimpse.

“What...what is you... _are you_ looking at?” Thorin's half draped on me, trying to remain upright.

“No....” I breathe.

I see the rippled moonlight fur and the bared fangs. A White Wolf of the North.

My skin is prickling, sweat beading at my brow. I am in no condition to fight and should I be, they were harder to kill than Wargs were.

“White Wolf,” I whisper to Thorin.

“Where?”  
“There!”

“Nothing there.”

“There is, we....it's running at us!”

In my fear and panic, I bolt, hoping the others would follow but it appeared they were standing still. The wolf, however, was matching my pace as I hared through the undergrowth without a second thought. I could not be captured again by one. If I was, that would be the end of me.

So I sprinted as best as I could, fleeing wildly for what felt like hours until the wolf leaped at me, pinning me down. The paws did not feel like paws, more fine, pointed but I slashed with my sword blindly, hoping I might wound it.

We struggled, my sword blocking its mouth from biting me before I kicked it, causing it to rear and stabbed it in the underbelly. It made a noise that was definitely not that of a wolf before pitching to the side.

“Don't move!” come voices from the trees and I look around to see elves with bows trained upon me.

“ _Daro!_ ” Sindarin is all I can speak but I hope it is enough for them to understand that I need assistance. “ _Aiya_!”

“What human is it that comes into our realm and speaks Elven tongue?” a dark haired elf approaches, arrow still nocked. “Especially with dwarven companions?”

I see the rest of the Company being brought into view, prisoners of the elves.

“Raven-Bearer!” Thorin struggles against his captor. “Put down your weapons! She will come with us peacefully!”

“I did not ask _you_ , dwarf,” the elf spits, looking over his shoulder. “I asked _her_. Now answer and remember, for every lie, I shall cut the beard off of a dwarf.”

“I am a ranger. I travel with them. I got separated when a White Wolf-” I turn around but only an enormous grey spider is in the spot where I thought I'd slain the beast. “I....”

“A White Wolf? Those are not common beyond Eriador, fewer still the people who have seen them. I ask again and for the final time. King Thranduil does not like to be uninformed so what manner of human are you that speaks the Elvish tongue and talks of White Wolves?”

I flick my gaze to Thorin wondering whether I should reveal my identity. The dwarven king nods as covertly as he can and I trust his judgement.

“I am a Dúnedain ranger. One of the few remaining of the Númenorean line.”

That starts muttering within the Company and the other elves as well. My aggressor looks bewildered for a moment, as much as his stoic face can do, before dragging me to my feet and shepherding me towards the others.

“Take the King under the Mountain to King Thranduil and the Dúnedain ranger also. The rest can go in the dungeons,” he says to his kin.

During the great protesting of the dwarves, Thorin leans up to whisper in my ear,

“Durin, you had me troubled when you ran off. Bilbo got free. He will save us. I believe in him.”

And I had no doubt the brave little Hobbit would. That did not stop me feeling worry for him though.

“Do not bother yourself,” the dwarven king resumes his normal volume as they separate us. “I can handle the Elven king. Say nothing and I shall talk for us.”

“Understood.”

“I will not let him harm you, _Bâhzundushuh_.”

“What does that mean?”

“Another name, a dwarven name. Do not repeat it in front of the others. It is meant between us and is of my respect for you.”

“Thorin, I...I would not let him harm you either,” I admit.

“Then we shall both survive this encounter,” he smiles quickly as we reach a winding bridge and cross to what looks like a throne room.

“Just do not provoke him. Promise me?” I recall his animosity with elves. “We do not need to end up trapped here.”

“I shall only provoke him if he provokes my ire first,” the response is laden with hidden venom.

Somehow I did not believe that was going to hold true.


	7. The King of Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're taken before the King of Mirkwood and it becomes clear Thorin does not like the Elvenking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, manipulation, angst, Thranduil being a little shit
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

I did not expect the guards to leave Thorin and I alone in the throne room whilst we waited for the Elvenking.

“Do you think we could run?” Thorin whispers to me.

“No,” I'm looking around at the treetops. “We'd never reach the dungeons without being spotted. We do not know this place. Let us just hear what the King of Mirkwood wants.”

“A wise choice,” a silken voice comes from behind the throne and a tall elf in flowing silver robes rounds it.

I had met with a few elves in my lifetime but none that were so haughty as King Thranduil. His very demeanour gave the impression he thought everybody was beneath him. I found myself straightening up, making my own body taller just to compete, to not feel as threatened.

It appeared Thorin was doing exactly the same next to me when I quickly looked over.

“King under the Mountain,” Thranduil approaches and then turns his gaze to me. “And you I do not know but I was informed you are a Dúnedain ranger, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Will you not give me the honour of your name?”

“I will not. You may use my title instead.”

My name was my own, known only to the Rangers of the North and the wizards. I would not let anyone else know it for fear they would try to force me to prop up the ailing kingdom of Gondor. That was not my destiny, it belonged to another of my kind. My destiny was to defend, not rule.

“Ah, yes. Raven-Bearer, was it? Thorin Oakenshield was overheard naming you by it....or was it _Bâhzundushuh?_ ”

I had never seen Thorin shake with anger before. I was beginning to wonder if the Dwarvish term was not what he told me it was.

“So tell me,” Thranduil's smirk is growing. “What are a band of dwarves and a Dúnedain ranger doing in my forest?”

“Looking for food and drink because we were starving,” Thorin answers curtly.

“And the reports of a halfling with your companions? What was he doing?”

“I expect looking for food and drink because he was starving also.”

“Do not test my patience!” Thranduil moves so quickly that I was startled as he leant down toward Thorin. “What is your purpose this close to the Lonely Mountain?”

And then the dwarven king falls silent.

“Then it is as I suspected,” Thranduil starts pacing. “You have found a way in, have you not? A way to reclaim your king's jewel, the Arkenstone.”

Thorin's gaze flicks to me for just a second too long and the movement is caught by the Elvenking. Then I become the focus of attention.

“Ah, the Raven-Bearer. Rangers have keen eyes, sharp wits. To spot a jewel in a sea of jewels is no easy feat.”

“I believe I am capable,” I do not show an ounce of discomfort.

“Admirable confidence,” Thranduil smiles. “I will give you passage through my lands and my help if you would but retrieve one more thing from the dragon's hoard. Gems, white gems of pure starlight. The White Gems of Lasgalen. They are mine.”

I do not answer, it is not my place to answer. I look to Thorin who just laughs and I get an uneasy feeling.

“A favour for a favour?”

“One king to another,” Thranduil moves on from me. “You have my word.”

“Your word....I would not trust the word of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood if the end of days was upon us! You have no honour! We needed your help and you turned your backs upon us! We were starving, homeless after Smaug took our home and you did _nothing_. **_Imrid amrâd ursul!_** ”

I did not know what he said but the Elvenking's offended face told me the story. Thorin was about to throw a punch but I got behind him, restraining his arms which took considerable effort. Rage was fuelling his strength and I had to dig my heels in or I would be dragged along with him.

“You should heed your precious Raven's caution,” Thranduil sneers down. “She is the only one of you with good sense. Perhaps I would speak to her alone.”

“You _dare_ speak to her alone and I will have your head!” Thorin is still trying to get free of me.

“If you can reach it, you are welcome to try. Guards, take the dwarven king to the waterfall. I will send someone to fetch you when I am ready. I will speak to the ranger.”

“You will do no such thing!” Thorin booms but elves surround me, pointing their arrows at him and I'm forced away, separated. “Raven-Bearer! Do not trust him! He is a snake!”

But Thranduil's fingers were turning my head away from the King under the Mountain and towards him and I heard the most visceral growl that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. I had only ever heard that sound in the big predators of Middle Earth and yet it came from Thorin as he was hauled away and I could not look at him, for the Elvenking's grip was too tight.

“Now we are alone,” Thranduil continues evenly. “I hope I can appeal to you. Thorin Oakenshield is too proud to accept my offer of help but I will consider you his mouthpiece should you wish to accept in his stead. I think a ranger as skilled as you to have navigated so far with the burden of dwarves at your side should find the White Gems with no issues. Will you do this for me?”

“And why do you want them?”

“They belong to me. They were for my wife but she passed before she could claim them from the dwarves of Erebor and Thror refused me them soon after. I want them returned to me. They belong with my family. One day I shall give them to my son to pass to his wife.”

“What was the reason Thror refused?”

If Thorin's grandfather did not want to give these gems, he must have had a good excuse.

“It does not matter. I-”

“-Answer my question, King of Mirkwood,” my own impatience is rising. “You are making me think you have something to hide.”

Thranduil's eyes flare for a moment before he steps back from me and I feel the bruises on my jaw from where his fingers have held it.

“There was a dispute over payment,” he finally says.

“So they are _not_ yours by right. You wish me to steal them. I will not do so, I am no thief.”

“I am offering you free passage and my resources. I do not ask for much.”

“You ask me to go into a dragon's hoard and risk more time near its fury.”

“You risk everything by going into The Lonely Mountain as it is,” Thranduil towers over me. “If you wake that dragon it will bring destruction down upon us all.”

“Then why ask me to stay longer?”

“Because I see much of Thorin's influence on you. If I ask you to give up this quest, you will not and so, if you are to succeed, I may as well benefit.”

“You are right, I will not give up this quest.”

“And how many are you willing to sacrifice in pursuit of the Arkenstone?” Thranduil leans down, hair almost skimming my face. “The lives of the dwarves? The lives of those in Laketown? The lives of those in my kingdom? Dragon-fire will decimate Mirkwood.”

“What do you know of dragons?”

“ _More than you_ ,” and before my eyes the glamour on his face is undone.

I see the skin melt until only tendons were bared, his eye turning milky and sightless and the scar tissue spreading up his cheek. In an instant it was gone, the magic slipping back into place and I would never have known the true face of the Elvenking if he had not have shown me.

“I....” my confidence is rattled.

To see the results of facing down a dragon was a startling reminder of what awaited me once we reached Erebor. But Thranduil was a king, he was not a ranger. He did not know how to muffle his steps, track objects and soothe sleeping beasts.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Thranduil is still gazing down at me. “You believe you can actually do this, despite everything I have told you and shown you. Thorin Oakenshield will be your doom, ranger. Do not throw your life away for one who cannot return your sentiments.”

“I do not know what you speak of,” my voice comes out oddly pitched.

“Don't you?” he raises an eyebrow before whispering in my ear. “You wear your affections as openly as the relic around your neck. Dwarves do not love humans, ranger. Push that from your mind before it gets you killed. The King under the Mountain is not worth your life.”

“ _Súlon gwanna nîf lín_ _!_ ” I hiss.

I was being too defensive and I knew it. The Elvenking had seen in me what I was trying to deny myself; that I was more than just fond of Thorin Oakenshield, that I was starting to treasure our private conversations, that I was opening more of myself to him than I had done to any other person before.

“There is nothing false that comes my lips,” Thranduil laughs coldly. “And your pronunciation is abominable as it happens but I would not expect perfection from one who resides in solitude for so long. But hear this, ranger. The Númenorean line may be of mixed blood but there are no accounts of mixed blood between dwarves and any other kind in Middle Earth. No records exist.”

“And who made those records, King Thranduil? Elves did. Who do Elves have famous enmity with, hmm? No wonder Dwarven history is not recorded. You cannot possibly know what you say is true.”

“He _cannot_ love you!” Thranduil impresses. “Even if he returned your affections, he is bound by the rules of royalty and you will _never_ be together. Stop this foolish flight of fancy and leave this quest. If you do not, then at least help your precious Thorin Oakenshield by retrieving the White Gems for me. Those are your choices.”

“And if I refuse them all together?”

The Elvenking sighs before going to his throne and rubbing his temple. Then he sinks into his throne.

“Dinendir, bring Thorin Oakenshield back in chains.”

“In chains?!” I approach the throne. “Why?!”

“I will speak to him alone and then he shall be put in the dungeons with the rest of your companions.”

“This is not good hospitality, King Thranduil.”

“Do you think I care?” he crosses his legs and leans one elbow on the arm of the throne. “I may soften my stance in a hundred years or so but you have come into my kingdom and both insulted me. I am justified to treat you as I wish.”

Out of habit my hand dropped to where my sword would be had it not been taken from me. The action does not go unnoticed.

Thranduil laughs, highly amused by my movement, “Would you like to challenge me, ranger? I would be happy to put you in your proper place. In fact...what a glorious idea.”

I'm on my back faster than I realise, Thranduil's forearm choking me just at the point where Thorin re-enters.

“GET OFF HER OR I SWEAR BY DURIN I WILL BURN THIS WHOLE KINGDOM DOWN!” he roars, fighting desperately with his captors who manage to secure his chains to a ring in the floor.

“Dinendir, take the ranger to my personal chambers for now. Watch her,” the Elvenking lets me go and I'm dragged out of the throne room.

I'm shoved into luxurious quarters, fine furniture and views but I am worried about Thranduil's intentions. I did not expect him to initiate combat without any prior warning and I did not understand why I was here.

I stood on the balcony and saw a view of the dungeons where I could make out the back of Balin's head if I really concentrated. I really hoped Bilbo would be able to help us soon.

**

Thorin had never been more terrified than when he stepped back into the throne room to see you on the ground with Thranduil hurting you.

Durin knows what had happened whilst he was forced to be away but if it was his fault then he would never forgive himself. It was _he_ who lost his temper and his head and you shouldn't pay the price for it.

When the Elvenking told his guards to take you to his private chambers though, the links of the chains were holding on by a thread to keep him contained, so great was his anger. Finally it was just him and Thranduil now and he could talk as freely as he liked.

“And what do you mean to do with her in your private chambers?”

“I have not decided yet,” Thranduil circles around him. “She was inherently ill-mannered towards me when I simply offered help.”

“Then why not put her in the dungeons?”

“Why not indeed...it came to my attention exactly how much you were defensive of this human. I think it would cause you great pain if I were to harm her...or do other things to her.”

“My only defensiveness is that you do not get to be dishonourable to one of my Company. _I_ am the leader, you will punish me if you want to do that. Not them,” Thorin stands up straight again, refusing to show his emotions.

“Lies, lies, _lies_ ,” Thranduil is behind Thorin as he takes his hair in his hands and drags his head back to look directly down. “Both of you pollute my kingdom with such blatant lies. It is as plain to me as the beard on your face that you harbour feelings for her. Dare I even say love from how willing you are to kill me for approaching her. She cannot return your sentiment, King under the Mountain. It is something that can never be.”

“You see things which aren't there, Thranduil. Maybe the sickness in your greenwood has addled your mind now.”

Thranduil leans down, head resting on Thorin's shoulder as he speaks into his ear.

“So you will not mind if I have her company for the night? I will exchange it for the freedom of your people and passage through my kingdom. After all, her and I are better suited, she is partly Elven. Even descended from the royal line, though not directly. I can tell that by looking at her. She could make a replacement queen for me once she realises where her loyalties should lie.”

“You shall not touch even a hair on her head,” the chains are rattling as Thorin as shaking.

“I shall but you will not know from the dungeons in what capacity she will scream. Perhaps in pain, perhaps in pleasure...perhaps both.”

“You are a monster!”

“And you are a fool,” Thranduil moves around in front of him. “You cannot be with her and you know it. They will shame you for it. If you marry her, they will insist you abdicate your crown. As for children...nobody knows that answer. Would you be prepared to spend your days as an outcast and childless should it come to that for her?”

Thorin thought back to your hut in the middle of the forest, how peaceful it seemed and how beautiful the area was. It did not seem like such a hardship to him if he had to spend his days there with you.

“As I thought,” Thranduil sneers after Thorin takes too long to answer. “She is not yours, Thorin Oakenshield and she never will be. I, on the other hand, have no such cultural qualms stopping me from courting her.”

“You do this to spite me!” Thorin shouts. “You have no interest in her beyond causing me to suffer! If you wish to hear the truth, Thranduil the coward, I will tell you!”

“Call me a coward again,” the two are nose to nose.

“ _Coward_ ,” Thorin growls. “And you are wrong, she _is_ mine.”

It was a bluff, a calculated risk to make such a declaration but the Elvenking stepped back in shock. He had not been expecting such an outburst.

“Her loyalty to you is unwavering and her defence of you is aggressively passionate. Does that fill you with joy?” Thranduil leers. “Well savour it. It will cost her dearly when I am done with her. Take him back to the dungeons.”

“Thranduil! _Nî durzumêzu kekhaf ma zamahkekhefmi ai-hu!_ _”_ Thorin hurls the insult before he is unchained and wrangled down the winding bridges and into the dungeons.

Once there, he tries to throw all of his weight against the bars, attempting to dislodge them but they hold fast.

“What happened?” Balin calls from the next cell.

“He offered us a deal. I told him _îsh kakhfê ai’d dur-rugnul!_ But then...then...the Raven-Bearer. He got her alone and hurt her, Balin. He has her locked in his chambers and I cannot do anything to help!”

“We shall have to pray Bilbo can help us,” Balin sounds worried. “What does he plan to do with her?”

“I do not know!” Thorin is becoming more panicked by the minute. “Harm her some more? Force her to be his wife? He had said both things to me and the second I believe out of malice but I do not trust that snake.”

“He won't force himself on her, Thorin. He's just getting in your head, laddie.”

“And if he is not? I will not take back the Lonely Mountain, only to see her by his side. If she is to be anyone's wife, she is to be _mine_!”

Thorin is glad his voice was not raised, that the others did not hear his controversial proclamation. He knew Balin would understand. Balin always understood him.

“You are not saying anything,” anxiousness gnaws away at the dwarven king as his friend remains silent.

“I just wondered how long it would take you to realise there were feelings there,” Balin replies warmly. “Nearly a year apparently.”

“You knew?!”

“Dwalin and I took bets on it. The others don't suspect anything and we won't tell them but we knew.”

“Durin, that I fall in love with a human,” Thorin sighs, leaning his head against the bars and the cool metal.

“We do not choose who our one soul half is and nobody ever said it had to be a dwarf.”

“You are not ashamed of me?”

“Of course not. We all consider her one of us, after all. She shares more dwarf traits than she's conscious of.”

“That she does,” Thorin laughs, despite his worry. “Should I give up the crown? Pass it to Fíli?”

“Fíli is not ready.”

“When the other dwarves come back to Erebor though-”

“-They will be shocked at first but they will come around to it. Even if you can have no bairns of your own, the line of Durin is still strong in Fíli and Kíli. They will have a dwarven royal family and you can be with her. In fact, I don't think they'll particularly care if you married an Orc so long as you get Erebor back.”

“Balin...what if she does not want my heart? I have been cruel to her in the beginning.”

“Then it will be her loss. Seeing the two of you together though? I think it's safe to say she returns some of your feelings, if not all.”

“I think so too,” a voice from nowhere makes Thorin startle.

“Bilbo!” he exclaims upon seeing the hobbit appear. “I knew you would come!”

“Of course!” Bilbo grins. “And as much as I would like to be noble and say I wasn't eavesdropping, I actually was. The Raven-Eyed does like you as more than a friend, Thorin. That much is plainly obvious. In fact, I'm getting very tired of her denying she doesn't so please, please, just confess to each other before you both drive me mad.”

“I will if you get me out of here,” Thorin returns the grin, feeling light in his hope.

“Now that I can do,” Bilbo jingles the keys.

Just as the key slotted into the lock, a scream was heard from somewhere high and in the distance, a long pained scream. Everything fell silent after it faded away.

“Was that her?” Balin asks.

“Get me out, Bilbo. Set me free,” Thorin orders just as a new scream rose.

“Thorin! Was that her?!”

“It's her, it's her! Durin, turn the key! Quickly!”

He did not know how to reach you, where you were but the deep rage was starting that Thranduil would be so reprehensible. He would save you, he would save you even if it killed him.


	8. Durin's Day Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin hears your screams and comes to save you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Thranduil being even more of a shit, unwanted advances, angst
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

I was already halfway over the balcony with my makeshift rope when Thranduil entered his chambers.

“I should have suspected,” he smiles wryly as I abandon the bed sheets, knowing he would catch me long before I could rappel down. “Did my silk have to suffer for your poor escape attempt though?”

“I'd rather be climbing down it than be under it,” I kept my distance.

“Is that why you think you are here? To warm my bed? If you offered yourself I would not refuse but that is not the purpose of your interment here.”

“So what is?”

“I have two things I can make a deal upon after my talk with Thorin, I-”

“-is he alright?” I interrupt.

I just had a horrible feeling Thorin might have got himself into more trouble with his temper. I could not bear the thought of not knowing.

Thranduil raises an eyebrow, “He's in the dungeons again. You can probably seek him from this height if you wish.”

And I did not listen to another word from the Elvenking before I turned around and immediately starting looking for Thorin. It took a moment but I saw a flash of the silver on the end of his braids in the cell next to Balin.

“Satisfied?” Thranduil has managed to come up behind me without me noticing.

My worry and fear was blinding my usual skills. I could not keep making mistakes like this.

“Yes. So what is it you wish to offer?”

“The first is simple,” Thranduil reaches out to hold my cheek. “The first is my hand.”

“Your....I do not understand.”

“You cannot be with Thorin, his people forbid it but I am not a dwarf. I know you, Númenorean, you are of Elros' line. Not the heir, not the spare but somewhere to the side, am I correct?”

“How did you know that?”

“I'm an Elf and I am old, I also speak on occasion with Elrond. Now you have been in my presence, I remember him speaking of you...he does so like to coddle his brother's descendants.”

“I have never asked Elrond for anything.”

“And that is admirable,” Thranduil's fingers trail back through my hair. “So what I am offering is for royalty to wed royalty, even if your status is diluted. Give up the quest, give up the golden reward and you shall never want for anything. You can hunt in my forest, defend it from the evils of the North as you did in Eriador but you can also claim a birthright you would never get to otherwise.”

“I do not want that right,” I move back from him. “And I do not want to wed you.”

“Do you find me displeasing, ranger? Many would consider it a great honour if I showed an interest in them.”

“You are....” I'm stumbling for the words, trying not to offend but trying not to offer him a branch to cling to.

“You can tell me the truth,” I'm cornered with my back to the balustrade and Thranduil is flush against me.

I don't know what is happening and I feel panicked. A king like Thranduil should not be showing favour to me when he has his choice of many elven or human women.

“You are not displeasing to the eye, King Thranduil,” I swallow hard. “I-”

“-Well if that is the case, allow me to make my offer more convincing. I am aware you like Thorin Oakenshield but I can offer much more than he can. A husband that will not age for you, wealth, freedom and the chance for you to carry on Elros' line. You will only have wealth if you continue to chase behind the King under the Mountain. I am also very, _very_ proficient....”

His mouth is by my neck and I cannot go anywhere. If I try to get free, I will plummet over the balcony and it is a sheer drop.

“...at loving,” Thranduil continues. “I am certain you understand my meaning.”

He retreats back a touch, my face encased in his hands, “All you have to do to agree is accept my kiss. Forget Thorin Oakenshield.”

“I shall do no such thing!” my voice was strong in its defiance. “I do not care if I cannot be his, I do not care if he _never_ loves me. I love enough for us both!”

“Ah! And there it is,” Thranduil steps back immediately, laughing to himself as he goes to the table to pour himself some wine. “I was beginning to wonder if I had misread you.”

“What...what trick is this?” I come back into his chambers uncertainly.

“A trick designed to see if you were interested in the King under the Mountain or Thorin Oakenshield himself. I must admit, I took personal amusement in it however.”

“Why would you do this?!”

“There has never, to my knowledge, been a human who loved a dwarf. I am fascinated. So I ask myself, what could the reason be for this unusual pairing to occur? Thorin is a king and there are many who would flock to him for that title alone, a rich king even more so. But you...you just simply love him.”

“Do you mock me?” I stand over him as he seems unbothered, lazily sipping from his goblet.

“You mistake me. I _celebrate_ you. A love that is pure and burns with such conviction is rare. I envy it. Sit down, please. I will make you the second offer.”

“But what if I would've accepted your first?”

“Then I would've had a wife that can at least shoot an arrow well,” he smirks. “And something pretty for my bed. I knew you would not agree though so the point is moot, ranger. The second offer is for passage to Laketown and involves only this. Scream like I am torturing you for a time. That is all. Well...you might throw in a few fake screams of pleasure if you feel brave enough but it is not a requirement.”

“If I do this, you'll let us go?”

“I give my word.”

“And the White Gems?”

“I have payment for when they are found. Now, will you accept?”

“Why do you want me to scream?”

“Thorin Oakenshield needs to learn a lesson about manners. If he thinks you are in peril for a few minutes, then he might learn to hold his tongue,” Thranduil looks out towards the balcony.

“I will do it if you will let us go tonight. We need to reach The Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day.”

“We have a deal, Heir of Elros. I do hope you have good lungs. Off you go.”

So I go to the balcony and I let loose. It's cathartic in a way, all of the stress of being in the Elvenking's maddeningly mood-switching presence being set free. I feel lighter as my voice begins to give out.

“Come away from the edge,” Thranduil orders. “He might spot you from where you are. I must say you are talented in subterfuge. The thought does occur to me that a Dúnedain ranger would make an excellent spy for a kingdom.”

“My services are not for sale, King Thranduil,” I sit opposite as he pours me a goblet and I down it in my need to anticipate what is coming. “So what will happen?”

“Oh I imagine Thorin will have found some way to escape by now so we will sit here and wait for him. Once he arrives with the others, I will simply send you on your way.”

“You will do one thing for me after I leave, King Thranduil,” I look at him firmly.

“Will I now?”

“You will put this in the records. The moment a human loved a dwarf. Perhaps in the future another human shall do the same and not fear they are the first.”

“If only you could stay longer,” Thranduil smiles. “You are very intriguing to me. Though I have a feeling this is not the last we shall see of one another.”

We fell into a silence that was not rightly comfortable but was bearable. I could hear the dwarves getting nearer in the absence of other sound; I had heard their footsteps often enough during these past months. I knew they would be at the door soon.

“I made sure my guards were conveniently elsewhere so they will enter without trouble,” Thranduil stands up. “Now excuse me but I will change. I have a feast occurring tonight and I am not in proper attire.”

He leaves the room into an adjacent one and I do not have to wait long before the door opens but there doesn't appear to be anyone there. I can hear disembodied breathing, light footsteps but I cannot see anything approaching me.

“Raven-Eyed,” I hear Bilbo whisper from behind me and there he is all of a sudden.

“How did you....” I look around to see how he might have snuck past me but I'm at a loss to explain it.

“No time, Thorin will be here shortly and-”

“-I am already here,” Thorin walks in, sword drawn and scanning for danger. “There were no elves watching this door. This is strange. Raven-Bearer, are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” I reply and he rushes over, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. “That is the truth of it.”

“I heard the most horrendous screaming,” he's searching me over, trying to find injuries or marks. “What did he do to you?”

“I did nothing,” Thranduil has re-entered...only he is without clothing on his torso completely.

I wince, knowing what this looks like when I am not tied up and Thranduil is in a state of undress. I can only pray Thorin keeps his head.

“You...” the dwarven king appraises the elven one. “Did you touch her? Did you force yourself upon her?!”

“I did nothing,” Thranduil repeats, pulling a long grey tunic over his head. “Your ranger took my new offer and hence you are all free to go. Dinendir will show you the way to the edge of my forest and Bard of Laketown shall take you towards The Lonely Mountain. He is here collecting barrels.”

“What offer did you take?!” Thorin looks at me desperately. “Please tell me it was not...”

“It was not,” I am quick to assure him. “Let us away. We do not have much time before Durin's Day approaches.”

“Such a pleasure having you in my kingdom,” Thranduil calls as we leave and I swear Thorin nearly broke his own teeth with how hard his jaw was clenched.

**

Bard of Laketown was much surlier than I was expecting. When faced with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a human, one would think we had asked him to sell his own children rather than ferry us to the town because he made quite the display of huffing.

We did not give our purpose, I expect because the potential to wake Smaug would only cause the inhabitants of Laketown worry. As far as Bard was concerned, the dwarves were paying homage to their old home and Dale, and I was their guide. Bilbo was so small, he was mistaken for a stunted dwarf.

I did not know why Bard was intent on hiding us in his home, me less so, but he was not overly eager to allow the Company to wander freely. We had other plans, however. Bard's children told us of the armoury and so we went to borrow weapons in the dead of night.

I was balancing on one leg, trying to get the highest spears and axes down from the racks as I stretched up.

“Oh no!” I started wobbling precariously as Fíli accidentally knocked me with a halberd.

I had two swords clutched in one hand and my grip was slipping, my foot was shaking and I floundered trying to regain my balance. Kíli put his whole bodyweight into leaning against me so I wouldn't fall and propped me up with one hand on my hip and the other on my ribcage.

“Kíli!” Thorin hisses. “Take the swords! Do not put your hands on the woman!”

“Sorry Uncle!” Kíli blinks before grabbing the weapons from me.

In his flustered state, he trips over his own boots and goes sprawling down the stairs, the metal clattering and clanging all the way down. The silence that followed was terrifying before we tried to run.

We were set upon by the guards of Laketown, brought to the Master of the place who seemed beside himself.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he flaps in his nightgown like some demented bird.

“They were stealing weapons!” one of the guards answers.

“Enemies, eh?” the Master gazes down at us through thick, wild eyebrows.

“No enemies here,” Dwalin snarls back. “You shall watch how you speak, human. You are in the presence of Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror.”

The little crowd that has gathered around us starts muttering amongst themselves. Thorin looks at me, seemingly for reassurance before stepping forward.

“It is true. I am Thorin. We are the dwarves of Erebor and we have come to reclaim our home. We have come to rebuild the old city and start trade again. This used to be the centre of the North and I would see it become that again. Riches shall flow from our forges to your city!”

“You would see this place burn if you wake the dragon!” Bard catches up with us. “You have no right to enter the mountain!”

“He has every right,” I block his path.

“Do you vouch for him, woodsgirl?” the Master asks me. “Do you vouch for Thorin, son of Thráin?”

“I do. He will keep his word. I will make sure of it.”

“I vouch for him also,” Bilbo nods. “Though she will be better than I am at holding him to his word.”

“I would not bet against you, Master Baggins,” I whisper to him. “You continue to surprise us all.”

Bilbo just laughs as Thorin and the Master strike a deal. Bard has stormed off but we do not need him now.

The Master invites us into the floating square where song and merriment begins before our ascent of the Lonely Mountain tomorrow. We drink and drink probably more than we should. Ori is already passed out on a bench and Bofur is singing and hiccuping, hugging a wooden pillar.

“Raven-Bearer, come,” Thorin nudges me. “I need to speak with you alone.”

I see a strange look passed between the dwarven king and Balin but I do not question it as Thorin grabs the last of the mead bottles and we climb up, up the tower to where the wind lance is housed. There are no chairs up there but the lip of the tower was low enough that we could both see towards The Lonely Mountain, dark and ominous against the skyline but also cold. I would never think a dragon lived in its depths.

Thorin took a long pull from the bottle before offering it to me and I did the same, not wanting to be left behind but I was already drunk by this point. I was unused to alcohol and my body was warm and tingling with each breath of the wind as it blew by.

“Do you know why I hated men?” Thorin starts.

“I assumed dwarves just naturally don't like outsiders.”

“Some of us. We used to have friendly terms with those in Dale when trade was at its peak. Those leaders were good men but there were many more bad ones willing to take their place in a heartbeat. The real hatred began when we were chased from our home and wandered to the Blue Mountains for refuge.

We had no wealth and so I would go to the nearby villages and sell my forging skill to those who would need it. I was mocked relentlessly. 'The Beggar Prince' they called me. I lost count of the times I was beaten, spat upon, insulted but I kept working. I kept smithing.

Eventually I had enough coin to build a hall for the dwarves of Erebor but I did not trust men from that moment on....until you.”

“I'm not strictly all human.”

“Even more reason I should've hated you. You know my history with elves. Instead I find myself confiding in you more than any other. This journey, this quest...I would not have succeeded this far without you. I-”

But we are interrupted by Rathak who perches on my knee. He politely tells me that the Lonely Mountain is completely empty and there are not even living creatures around it. They all know better than to go near a dragon's lair.

“Our way is clear tomorrow,” I inform Thorin before stroking Rathak's back.

“He really is your friend, isn't he?” Thorin smiles at the interaction. “A fine bird. He shall be the king of the Erebor roost.”

Rathak understood that because he puffed out his chest, ruffled himself and then hopped over to Thorin's leg. Thorin just froze, not wanting to scare him away.

“You can pet him. It's alright. That's his way of saying he approves of you,” I laugh.

“Hello Rathak,” Thorin strokes his head where the raven stands there patiently.

In the raven-tongue, I tell Rathak I will need some private time and not to disturb us for a while. I get a funny kind of squawk back that I don't really understand but when Rathak chirps up some more, I am glad Thorin does not speak the beast language.

The raven had told me to be careful with my heart.

With a great swoop, he leaves Thorin's leg and flies off to nest on the Master's building.

“I'm sorry, you were saying?” I prompt the dwarven king.

“Yes, yes,” Thorin shakes himself, imbibing more mead. “Well, I...I....”

“Is this about Thranduil? Did he say something to you?” I am getting worried that the Elvenking might have told my secrets.

“He said a great many things to me, not a lot of it I cared to listen to,” he snorts. “Drink up, ranger. You might need the mead to prepare for what I will say tonight.”

“Alright...” I have yet more and suddenly I feel far too off balance.

I lie back, my view of the stars impeded by the wind lance but they were enough visible to soothe my nerves. The King under the Mountain should get to the point, I thought, before I drink myself into oblivion waiting for him.

Thorin lies back also, our heads at the same height.

“I am sure you are wondering why I was so angry when Thranduil approached you...it was more anger than I would've given had it been anyone else. The Elvenking guessed the truth of myself and used it against me. He knew I cared for you.”

“You care for me?” I look to the side and he resolutely keeps staring up, avoiding my eyes.

“I do. I....by Durin, this is so difficult,” he sits up and completely drains the bottle.

He is completely drunk now, swaying and laughing to himself as he turns back around.

“To think this is what makes me come unstuck. My father would be laughing in my face right now.”

“Thorin? What is troubling you?”

“Troubling me?” Thorin leans back on one elbow so he's above me in height and looks down upon my face. “What is troubling me is if kissing a human will be any different to kissing a dwarf.”

“Did you just say-”

But I never finished my words before he leant further down until his lips were nearly on mine, holding back at the last second so I could reject him if I wished to. Instead, my left hand cupped his neck and my right moved into his hair, pulling him to me and closing that last gap between us.

The kiss was shy to start with, sweet even.

“I have wanted to do that for so long, _Bâhzundushuh,_ ” Thorin whispers, his whole face alight with his beaming smile.

“Tell me what that means. Please?”

“It means 'my raven' but as I say, this name is between us.”

And he moves in for another kiss, more passion bleeding through this time. The mead is fuelling us, shyness now cast to the skies as our movements became more hungered. If it were possible to say, I could feel the strength of Thorin's love through his actions.

Thranduil was wrong. We _would_ be together.

During a moment to re-catch our breath, I said the name so few in this world knew. I said my real name to him and he murmured it back to me, understanding instantly.

“Thank you for trusting me with it but after a year of calling you Raven-Bearer, the habit is already made,” he chuckles. “And you are my raven, are you not?”

“I am.”

The kisses are becoming messier, long dormant want springing to life and all I could think of was how much I needed him. He was half on top of me, hands running down my side, seeking entrance under my tunic until they met the burning skin underneath. At his touch, a soft moan escaped from my lips which only spurred him on more with a gentle growl of his own.

“Uncle? Uncle! Are you up there?” Kíli's voice wends up from the bottom of the tower. “We're trying to work out what we need for tomorrow.”

Thorin stops immediately, trying to take deep breaths before calling back down, “I shall join you in a moment. Go back to the square.”

“Alright then!” Kíli replies cheerily.

“Durin's bearded backside!” Thorin grunts in frustration. “I do not want to go but I must.”

“I understand,” I try to pull myself together.

I had been a hair's breadth from letting the dwarven king take me right here on this tower. Now I was faced with the fiery ache the denial had left me.

“Raven-Bearer, this will have to stay between us,” Thorin pauses as he stands. “The others...they will not understand it.”

“I know.”

“Though my heart aches to keep this to myself,” Thorin drops to one knee so he can give me one last kiss. “Oh I really _really_ do not want to leave.”

“So stay. They can look after themselves for one night.”

“You and I both know that is not true,” he smiles. “Join me after five minutes have passed, so there is no undue suspicion.”

“Alright then. See you in the square.”

Thorin left down the ladder and I was alone to watch the swirling of clouds and stars above me. I did not like deceiving the others, sneaking around but if this was the only way Thorin and I could be together, I would bear it.

I would be his little secret for however long I lived through the next day.


	9. Smaug the Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You journey to the Lonely Mountain to finally undertake your role in this quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, Mortal peril, shades of dragon-sick Thorin
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

We started our ascent to the Lonely Mountain as soon as the sun rose.

It would take a long time to journey to the summit, for that's where the dwarves suspected the hidden staircase would be. We were already by the burned city of Dale when the sun was in its noon position.

Seeing the devastation laid bare, Bilbo and I exchanged a look. Was this what was to become of us if we woke Smaug?

“I suddenly don't feel so well,” Bilbo swallows hard.

“I understand exactly what you mean, Master Baggins,” I murmur back.

“Still, could be worse,” he takes a deep breath. “I could be doing this alone.”

“If it soothes you any, my loyalty is getting you out of the line of dragon-fire should it come to that and damn the Arkenstone.”

“Don't let Thorin hear you say that,” Bilbo nudges me in the hip with his elbow. “You'll break his fantasised view of you.”

“Oh we are not talking about this again, are we?”

“How blind do you think I am, exactly?”

“Blind enough.”

“Well I'm not. Go say something to him before we're all burnt to toast later.”

“I....”

“Or have you done that already?” Bilbo guesses.

“You will tell no-one, understand? _No-one_ ,” I hiss quietly. “I may have...I...I kissed him last night or rather he kissed me and I was happy to let him.”

“Oh brilliant!” Bilbo beams before I shush him. “Why? What's the matter?”

“The matter is that he has not spoken a word to me since, nor even looked my way. I think he regrets it.”

“Come on now, that's nerves talking.”

“It is _not_ nerves. He asked me to keep it a secret so a secret I have kept it and now he does not even speak to me. He was drunk at the time, so was I. He might not even remember it.”

“Raven-Eyed, you have nothing to worry about,” Bilbo reassures me. “I have never seen someone as devoted as Thorin is to you. You weren't there when he was trying to break his cell door open because he thought you were in trouble.”

“Then why won't he look at me?” the insecurities tumble out as I see the back of the dwarven king's head at the front of the line.

“I don't know. I honestly don't know but it's not something you did. You know, I never expected to be giving love advice when I'm a few feet away from a dragon.”

“But it is calming, is it not?” I laugh despite myself. “To do something normal right now?”

“It is. I tell you what. If Thorin Oakenshield impugns your honour, I'll set a firework off in his private privy.”

“Bilbo!” I gasp. “I never knew you were so devious.”

“That's the Took heritage. Marvellous tricksters sometimes,” he winks at me.

We both start laughing and finally, _finally_ Thorin turns around looking bemused.

“What is the joke, Master Baggins?” he calls, not to me but to Bilbo.

“You wouldn't understand it. Shire humour,” Bilbo calls back.

“Perhaps you should teach me some time. I would like to learn about where you came from,” he shouts over his shoulder before his eyes land on me and quickly flit away.

“Right, I see what you mean now,” Bilbo purses his lips as he speaks to me. “I definitely think he _does_ remember but might be shy.”

“Because I am a human and he does not want anyone to know?”

“Because he's an idiot who's never courted a human before.”

“I think I would rather take on the dragon than do these mind games,” I sigh.

“Just...just make sure you talk to him before we go in. There's no guarantee we'll ever come out alive so make sure he knows how you feel.”

“I will try to.”

But in my heart, all I felt was the sting of rejection.

**

When we reached the hidden staircase and made the climb, when we finally got to the secret entrance, there was an air of completion amongst the Company.

With great strides, Thorin walked proudly to the wall, the key of Erebor in hand before I watched his smile deflate as his hand moved over the stone, finding no keyhole. His desperation only grew and those dwarves closest began to search the wall themselves.

I stood back, not wanting to intrude as I watched the sun sink lower and lower until eventually it had dipped down beyond the skyline, reds and oranges staining the stone around us.

“We've lost the light,” Balin says sadly. “It's over. The last light of Durin's Day has passed.”

“No....” Thorin's voice trails off and my heart breaks to hear the sadness in it.

“So that's that then,” Glóin starts walking away.

One by one the dwarves trail by me, dejected, tearful and scuffing their feet as they walked. None of them gave a second glance to Bilbo and I, nor would I expect them to. I could only imagine how they felt; so close to seeing their home and yet unable to get in.

“You're not giving up, are you?” Bilbo asks Thorin who was at the back of the line. “You can't! Not now!”

Thorin says nothing, merely gives Bilbo the map before passing me and he does not say a single word.

“Bilbo, keep trying,” I instruct the hobbit who nods. “Keep trying for them.”

“I will,” he nods and I chase after Thorin, catching his wrist and making him stop.

“Talk to me,” I plead with him. “You cannot go yet. This is not how your journey ends.”

“What is there left to say, ranger?” Thorin's voice is strangled with the effort of not crying. “I have failed. I have failed them all. They trusted me.”

“You have not failed them. This was a dangerous quest to start with. You have gotten all of the Company here in one piece. That is remarkable given what we have faced. I...I'll go in the front door. I can still sneak by if-”

This is the first time I get a reaction out of him as he violently turns and grabs my hands.

“-you will not set _one foot_ near that door,” he growls. “Do you mean for me to lose everything?! My home, the respect of my people and my heart also?”

“I did not...you have not even looked at me all day,” I cast my eyes away. “I thought you might regret last night.”

“The only thing I regret about last night is that we did not finish what we started. _Never ever_ doubt what I feel for you, _Bâhzundushuh._ The only reason I could not look upon you was for fear I would never let you go within Erebor where I have the chance to lose you. That is why I have stayed away.”

“Forgive me, Thorin,” I whisper. “But please do not give up on the quest. I would rather climb through the broken entrance door to see you back in your home then let you walk back to Laketown.”

“Raven-Bearer, I-”

“-No, _listen to me_. I will find a way in. I will find a way in no matter what and I will find the Arkenstone for you. I will find the Arkenstone, _Melhekhul_.”

He seems stunned to hear Khuzdul from my lips, the language of the dwarves. It takes him a moment to reply, eyes still wide in surprise.

“You would call me your king but I am a poor excuse for one. Retrieve Bilbo and let us lick our wounds in the town before we think upon our next steps.”

“Not until he's ready to rejoin.”

“Durin's chest hair, you are both more stubborn than a dwarf,” Thorin shakes his head. “Wherever did you learn our language, by the way?”

“It is only that one word. Dwalin told me.”

“Did he now?”

“He was being kind. I wanted to learn.”

“ _Ghivâshelûh_ , my treasure of all treasures, I do not deserve the love you have for me. Bury it for now, the road back is long and my people are distraught. I should attend to them. Fetch the hobbit when he is done trying to prove me-”

“-THORIN?!” Bilbo's voice comes wending around the corner. “THORIN! IT'S MOONLIGHT! MOONLIGHT IS THE LAST LIGHT OF DURIN'S DAY! IT'S HERE! THE KEYHOLE! COME BACK!”

His shout was so loud that all the dwarves heard it and they turned around. Thorin dropped my hands quickly but gave me a secret wink so I did not feel disparaged by the movement.

In an instant, we were back at the stone wall and with much more pride, Thorin slots the key into the keyhole and turns, pushing at the stone until it gave way like a door would.

Musty air rushes through to us, a metallic tang in the mix and something heady like warmed earth.

“Raven-Bearer, Bilbo. Come with me,” Thorin is smiling again as he goes through the entrance, hand sliding along the stone. “I know these walls. I am home.”

I have to stoop through the passage, too tall to stand up comfortably but once it opens out, I think I murmured a prayer.

Erebor was _beautiful_.

Fine halls, artistically made staircases, embellished bridges and a jewel at the top of the mountain that mimicked the sun outside, or maybe it refracted the sun from outside because a red glow was cast around the walls. From down below I could see endless piles of gold, gold as far as I could see and flecks of jewels within those piles that winked like stars.

“How am I meant to....” I whisper, looking at the sheer daunting task ahead of me.

“Come with me,” Thorin pulls me back into the narrow corridor and Bilbo follows. “What you are looking for is the Arkenstone. It is a globe with a thousand facets; it shines like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the moon. You will know it when you find it. Master Baggins, if you would give me a moment with the ranger alone.”

“I'll give you however long you need,” Bilbo puts so much emphasis on the sentence I fear Thorin will know I have told him of our entanglement.

“Promise me you will be safe,” Thorin touches my face when Bilbo walks into the hall and tactfully stares forward. “Durin, promise me. I do not want to let you go in there.”

“I cannot leave Bilbo alone to search a dragon's hoard when the dragon might still be there.”

“You are so wonderfully noble it is infuriating,” Thorin laughs dryly. “You have the makings of a queen in you.”

“It is what I was meant to be in another life, another destiny.”

“Perhaps.....no this is not the time. You will get yourself out if the dragon wakes. Do not keep looking for the Arkenstone. Do you understand me?”

“I understand.”

“ _M_ _aralmizi_ _,_ _Bâhzundushuh_ ,” he embraces me, leaning up to give me a single and longing kiss. “I promise I will tell you what the first part of that means if you'll come back to me.”

“It is a deal, _Melhekhul_.”

He makes a deep rumble in chest, “Do not give me a taste for you calling me that, Raven-Bearer. Now go before I lose the strength to let you free from my arms.”

And so I walk to Bilbo, glancing over my shoulder as the King under the Mountain retreats outside and the burglar and the hunter are left to stare at the sea of treasures before them.

“So I see you were worrying for nothing. Awful lot of noises back there,” Bilbo gives me a mirthful eyebrow.

“You know I could throw you head first into that,” I gesture to the gold. “Oh well at least if I die, I die with a smile. Let's begin searching. You stay up here and scan as much as you can, I will vault to that spot over there where there's no gold on the floor. It will be impossible to be quiet walking on coins.”

“How will you do that?”

“See there?” I point to a crane like structure with a horizontal pulley. “I can ride the rope until the end of the hall.”

“Alright, well be safe,” Bilbo gives me a quick hug before I scale the pillar and I thank whatever god for the dwarves having decorative notches in them.

They make for fine handholds as I reach the top and jump for the handles of the pulley, hoping they held my weight but they were well made and I flew across the room much faster than I expected. I nearly lost my grip and then all of a sudden, I came to such a violent stop I was nearly thrown clear.

There was something melted on the line that stopped my progress but I was still a ways from the empty area I was aiming for. I knew I did not have long left to keep my hold on the handles and my only option was to drop straight down but the noise I would make....

“Raven-Eyed!” Bilbo hisses in a whisper. “Raven-Eyed! Just let go! I will handle it!”

So I trust the hobbit and fall into the pile of gold, sliding down the heap until I could run behind a support column whilst I heard him slide down the other side and just when I expected to see Bilbo running by, I actually saw nothing. Coins were still scattering like someone was passing but I saw nothing.

I did not understand it.

Ruminating on the mystery was not a luxury I had though when there was a great huff and suddenly more treasure started displacing, jewels and goblets tumbling into the clear area as the dragon awoke and my heart just about stopped. I did not think he would wake so easily.

“Thievesssss,” Smaug rumbles as he emerges. “Thieves! I smell you....I smell.....something I have not scented before. What are you? There are two, I know this but _what are you?_ ”

I make no noise, silently searching near me for the Arkenstone. I see many gems that sparkle with rainbow light, white light and moonlight set in various settings of bracelets, necklaces and belts. I do not know what I am searching for so I put on as many things as I think could be the stone on my person before creeping towards the next pillar and the next in the nick of time.

“Do not be shy,” Smaug's voice is closer. “Now _you_ , you smell of something like man but not quite man. It is more familiar than your companion. A half-breed I think.”

There's a clatter from the other end of the hall and I see the shadow of the dragon on the wall whip around to chase it. Bilbo must be trying to give me a distraction.

I take it, moving back to where I was, watching the slithering body for any signs that Smaug was going to turn before scanning the treasure before me. My heart was thumping so loudly, I was sure I would be discovered soon but I saw it, peeking out of the bottom of the pile.

The Arkenstone glowed and flickered like a living nebula, white starlight swirling within and rays of the coloured moon in the springtime sparkled in the depths. There was no mistaking it, as Thorin had told me.

I was just about to take it when I heard Smaug's voice again and my body froze.

“There you are, thief!”

The dragon was still not looking my way so I assumed Bilbo had been caught. In a panic, I grabbed the Arkenstone, stuffed it into my leather armour down the bodice and tried to creep closer.

“I am no thief!” Bilbo's worried tone carries across the hall. “I was just coming to look at your magnificence, O' Smaug the unaccessibly wealthy. I came to see whether the legends of your greatness were true.”

“And are they?”

The dragon stands to his fullest stature and I realise the enormity of the danger we are. Smaug is beyond anything I could've comprehended, filling my entire vision with his bulk. I would not even reach the height of his knee if I were against it.

“Truly, truly O'Smaug the stupendous,” Bilbo is stammering.

“And did your companion come to bandy such cheap flattery to me also. Hmm?”

I have no time to prepare as Smaug turns and looks directly at me. I am faced with sharp teeth, yellow eyes and a throat which undulates with fire as if he were preparing to attack. In my quick assessment, I see Smaug has studded his underbelly with gems and jewels, creating a glittering carapace to hide his weakness but I spot the missing scale and know that is where I should aim if I find a ranged weapon.

“You say you are not thieves but you are wearing my treasure,” Smaug approaches me.

“These are for your delight, O' Smaug the glorious,” I do a strange sort of bow as Bilbo comes running over to me. “We have brought them with us. They are a tribute to you.”

“A tribute?!” Smaug rears up. “Do you think I have not memorised every single coin, every cup and every stone within my treasures?! Do not lie to me, half breed, I know my trinkets when I see them. You are a _thief_. You were sent here by the dwarves, weren't you? Oh I knew this day would come. I knew the dwarves would send others to do their dirty work, to steal for them, to _die_ for them.”

I had never expected a dragon to be so paranoid but I could see his eyes scanning the heaps of gold, cataloguing each one.

“We don't know anything about dwarves. We just came here to see you,” Bilbo continues the lie. “This is my mother, you see. I promised I would bring her for she was too nervous to come alone.”

“You are a child? You look old for a child,” Smaug's head is within inches of us. “Or too young to be a mother. Your lie is weak. It is Oakenshield that comes for me, the filthy dwarven usurper. You are being used, the both of you. Your lives mean nothing to them.

He sent you for the Arkenstone, didn't he? I know one of you has it. It is not amongst my treasure. I am almost tempted to let you take it to him, to see him driven mad with his greed. It will destroy him utterly but...but no. This game of words ends here.”

“RUN!” I push Bilbo to the side as dragon-fire erupts towards us.

I can feel the end of my hair singing and I have barely escaped. I try to flee back towards the hidden door but the tail of Smaug slams down, blocking my progress. I twist about, sliding down another pile under a bridge and rapidly climb up the scattering coins.

“You cannot hide for long,” Smaug's voice is taunting. “I will find you.”

My hand falls on something wooden as I'm scrambling and I pull a bow and quiver from the mess of gold, slinging it across myself in case Smaug got close enough. I was already up on the dais overlooking the hall, Bilbo a few feet in front of me as we rounded the corner.

Thorin was waiting but far from being nervous or hurried, he stopped Bilbo with his sword.

“What are you doing?!” Bilbo is frantic.

“Do you have it? The Arkenstone, do you have it?” Thorin's tone is strange and I don't care for it.

“No! There's a huge dragon coming this way!”

“Thorin, put your sword back,” I reach them both and without warning I am whirled into the wall, the dwarven king's hands on my shoulders and reaching across the many pendants at my neck.

“Pretty jewels for my pretty jewel,” he almost sounds delirious as he views them and I with worshipful reverence. “Though you outstrip them all with your beauty.”

“This really isn't the time!” Bilbo gets in between us and for just a moment I am afraid Thorin will attack the hobbit.

The look of absolute hatred was startling.

The other dwarves run down the corridor just as Smaug is approaching and Thorin seems to come to his senses, pulling us away and down another hallway. When we enter another room though, he stops and I look past to see corpses, still decaying corpses half preserved and screaming in their final breaths.

“This is the last of our kin,” Balin murmurs.

“They suffocated in here,” I look with horror at the claw marks on the wall and the fact there is no way out of here but the door we entered through.

“Then we cannot stay,” Dwalin refuses to look down. “We shall meet the same fate if we are trapped here.”

“The forges,” Thorin turns around. “If we split up, go two separate routes, Smaug will not be able to choose who to chase. This will end in fire after all, Raven-Bearer.”

“And I am not going anywhere,” I tear the necklaces away, the belts and throw the bracelets on the ground. “Even if I did not find the Arkenstone.”

Bilbo at least had the common sense not to argue when he had so clearly heard Smaug proclaim one of us had it. I do not know why I kept it from Thorin but deep in my heart I think I knew it would be a mistake to hand it over. In fact, as the others came out of the door, I hung onto the halfling so we were at the back.

“Take this,” I give him the Arkenstone. “Hide it. I do not like what effect it has on Thorin.”

“Neither do I. I would've done the same in your shoes,” he stuffs it into his coat. “I swear I will not tell him.”

In agreement, we race after the others, going to the forges where we manage to get through the metal gates just as the dragon's muzzle tries to press through.

“We need to relight the forges,” Dwalin looks at the cold and dead structures. “We don't have anything to start them all though.”  
  
“I do,” I snap the chain on my second to last relic, apart from my sword. “This contains the Fire of Elros. Smash it in the forges and it will start them.”

“Put that away, Dúnedain,” Balin bids me. “We've already got a great big fire source trying to eat us all.”

“Though we appreciate that you would give it to us, dwarf sister,” Dwalin does a short bow of his head. “Thorin, go poke the dragon.”

In Smaug's annoyance at being ignored, he begins to taunt us.

“You cannot keep me out forever, dwarves. I will always win in the end. I shall eat your thieves first but I shall eat them raw so you can hear the crack of their bones. I knew when I smelled you, Oakenshield that you had been close to the half-breed. Her cries will cause you great suffering when I tear the flesh away.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Thorin taunts back. “Words? You have grown soft in your dotage, Smaug, fat and ungainly. You are no dragon, you are only a slug!”

“ _SLUG?!_ ” Smaug roars before a plume of dragon-fire belches forward and I see by Thorin's smile that he had successfully riled him.

With a great series of pops and hisses, the forges relight and the gold within them starts to melt.

“As we talked about!” Thorin calls to the dwarves of Erebor. “Someone has to lead him to the Gallery of the Kings.”

“I will do it,” Bilbo takes the responsibility.

“Take the Raven-Bearer with you,” Thorin nods. “We will do the rest.”

“I will give you support from above,” I take the bow off and grab as many arrows as I can from the stacks on the wall of the forges. “You go from below.”

And so we set off in a pincer movement, the hobbit distracting the dragon and I jumping from high pillared landing to high pillared landing, following until I got to a safe enough distance where the arrows would be effective but not close enough that I could be immolated.

I heard a discussion between Bilbo and Smaug about Laketown before a jet of fire flew out of the entrance towards the place that had given us shelter and I hoped its range was not far enough to reach but I did not have time to see Laketown's fate.

Thorin soon stood upon what seemed to be a stone statue of a previous king but the flash of gold pouring into the back of it told me it was a mold. I had no idea what the purpose for filling it was but when Thorin began to shout for Smaug's attention, I was soon to find out.

“Do you think you will take anything from me?” the dragon approaches. “I laid low your warriors of old, dwarf. _I_ am King under the Mountain.”

“This is not your kingdom!” Thorin booms. “These are dwarf lands and we will have our revenge!”

As the mold fell away, only a giant golden statue remained but Smaug was entranced. He gazed upon it like it was the most beauteous thing he had ever seen.

I saw my chance.

I did not know what possessed me to smash the Fire of Elros jewel, to dip the arrow head in the flame but when I lined up the shot, I knew this was the way it had to be. A simple arrow would not be enough and I needed to embed something within the dragon he could not escape from.

Would fire undo fire? I had no inkling.

Still I paced forward five steps but when the gold began to melt in front of Smaug, he twisted and my line of sight to the exposed hole was gone.

“NO! DON'T!” Thorin spots my intent before it happens.

I took the decision to leap from the pillar, aiming in mid air and I let my arrow fly, not knowing if I would survive the jump as the ground below me hissed with molten gold.

“MY LOVE!”


	10. Dragon Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did your arrow fly true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mortal peril, boundary pushing, Thorin losing control.
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> This chapter got super super long so I'm splitting it into two parts

I could not hear anything as I watched with concentration at where my arrow had gone.

For a moment I thought I would miss but Smaug's attention was still locked onto the melting gold and he moved back just enough that my aim was true. I watched the full arrow shaft disappear into his body and the dragon stiffened, shocked by what had happened.

I was falling though, my momentum gone and I braced myself for the second worst death I could think of. Burning in molten gold.

My arm jerked though as a strong hand wrapped around it and, as I looked up, Thorin was dangling from one of the chains of the mold that he had swung on to catch me. With a great effort, he hoists me until I can wrap myself around the chain and him for a better grip so I can see if my instincts were right.

“NO!” Smaug is becoming buried in the shining liquid but that does not seem to be affecting him. He's clutching his heart, claws scrabbling, shedding scales and jewels as he does so. “NO THIS CANNOT BE! I AM FIRE! I AM DEATH! I CANNOT BE UNDONE BY FLAME!”

But as the body twisted, I saw in the wound that an inferno was blazing. The Fire of Elros was cooking Smaug from the inside, overpowering the dragon's own fire and the thick hide was only insulating the damage. In spurts, plumes of flame would burst forth from the hole as he hissed and writhed.

“THIEF!” Smaug tries to breath fire at Thorin and I but it peters out in his mouth. “THIEEEEEEF. MURDEREEEER! I....I.....”

But as the Fire of Elros reached his skull, the eyes melted away. One last jet of flame threatened us both on our handholds and Thorin sharply twisted his body to shield me as his arm was burned and he cried out. I dangled with one hand, putting out the blaze on his clothes and the ends of his hair.

With a final shriek of indignation, Smaug collapsed onto the rapidly cooling golden river and within minutes, no-one would ever have thought a real dragon had ever been in Erebor. You would only think they held the statue of one in their Gallery of Kings, frozen in a last snarl.

A hook is cast, catching the chain and we are drawn back to an even footing on a nearby bridge. I half collapse on the stone, adrenalin leaving me as the dwarves of Erebor gather around Thorin and I. Bilbo is already running up the staircase as fast as his feet will carry him.

I am hardly prepared for it but I am mobbed by so many dwarves that I cannot tell who is who any longer. They're singing and laughing, squeezing me tightly.

“You did it!” Nori, Dori and Ori crash into the side of me.

“You killed the dragon!” Bifur, Bofur and Bombur nearly take the legs out from under me.

“You've given us our home back!” Óin and Glóin jump onto the pile from the other side.

“Erebor is ours again!” Fíli and Kíli are at my back, screaming with glee.

Only Balin and Dwalin give me space but they both nod their gratitude, giving me their applause and smiles.

“Let the Raven-Bearer breathe,” Thorin laughs.

“Master Hunter indeed,” Bilbo finally reaches us and I manage to extract myself enough to embrace him; the brave little hobbit who thought quickly when in peril and volunteered to be bait.

“Master Burglar indeed,” I beam at him.

“I think she needs a new title, Thorin,” Dwalin's gruff voice can be heard across all the celebrating. “Raven-Bearer is a bit pansy for what she just did.”

“She is our Dragon-Slayer,” Thorin is the last to approach me, elated and grinning but clutching his arm where it has been burned.

“To the Dragon-Slayer!” the dwarves chorus.

“I do not think I will take down anything that dangerous again and nor do I have the inclination to,” I wave off their compliments. “But Thorin, you are hurt. Let me attend to your arm before more damage sets in.”

“I am fine.”

“Thorin...”

“Go take her to the healing rooms, laddy,” Balin thumbs in a direction. “We can't be having a king who's injured. I'll round these lot up.”

“I will in a moment. Fíli, take her to the healing rooms and I will join shortly. I must address something,” Thorin nods, lightly pushing his nephew towards me who waves me over.

So I follow the young prince who stops just as much as I do to marvel at things. I forget he has never seen Erebor before, nor his little brother and I wonder how he even knows where he is going until he pulls a map out of his pocket.

“It's so much more beautiful than mother described it,” he looks at the glittering walls with awe.

“What is she like? Your mother I mean. I've never met a dwarrowdam before,” I ask.

My question appears innocent but really I am gauging that if my budding relationship with Thorin were to blossom into something very serious, I wanted to know if his sister would likely oppose it. I suppose all of the dwarves might and I was afraid of that thought. I was so fond of them all that I did not want them to look upon me with disgust at daring to love one of their number.

“Fierce,” Fíli laughs. “She did not stand for any nonsense. When Kíli and I would venture too far into the human towns when were younger, she would drag us back and oh...the aim with her slipper was incredible to see.”

“What were you doing in the human towns?”

“Drinking,” he looks up at me slyly. “Dwarves like their ale, ranger but Kíli and I got a taste for the stuff brewed by humans. They did indulge us in their taverns since we spent so much coin there.”

“You are terrible,” I laugh. “That is hardly becoming of a prince.”

“Prince was only a title. Now we are home it is a role,” Fíli looks around as we reach the healing quarters. “Thanks to you. The salves for burns I think Nori said were in those cupboards. Awful lot of fire related injuries near a forge after all.”

I opened it, seeing the tinctures and creams before Fíli coughed to get my attention before he left.

“If you're nervous my mother won't like you when she arrives then don't be. You should not be nervous about any dwarf not liking you, Dragon-Slayer. You are our truest friend and our saviour. I know that you have personally restored my faith that humans are good and kind and loyal allies. I think my uncle would give you a home here if you wanted it.”

“There is not much to hunt around Erebor, Fíli.”

“Not yet but now the dragon is dead, the mountain will teem with life again, both over and under. You will see. I would like you to stay, I think we all would but we would not confine you here when you have a home already.”

“My home is long lost, young prince, not just my ancestral one but the place I grew up in. It was a small hamlet near Rivendell where the rangers would come back to after their wanderings.”

“I am sorry,” his face becomes serious. “Just know if you decide to stay, you will be welcome here.”

“Thank you. I already do feel welcome.”

Thorin comes through the door, face pinched in pain as he sits on the bench near to me.

“Have you bent her ear off yet, nephew?” he makes a joke to hide his discomfort.

“Nearly. I was just saying our kin will welcome her. She does not need to worry,” Fíli answers.

“Aye she does not. Go on, lad. The others are searching for the Arkenstone. Go help them and close the door behind you.”

“Yes uncle.”

And the young dwarf leaves as I move to Thorin to assess the damage. I rip open the sleeve to find some of the fabric has melted into the wound and know this will not be an easy process. I am also saddened that it has destroyed some of his intricate tattoo on the bicep.

“So you are worried about not being liked?” Thorin says softly. “Why would they not like you, _Bâhzundushuh?_ You have killed a dragon for them.”

“The conversation started about your sister,” I look around for a set of tweezers and find them on the back wall. “I asked what she was like and he misinterpreted that as worry.”

“But you _are_ worried, I can see it. I know you well enough by now.”

“The only thing I fear is that if we are discovered, she will hate me. I do not want to be 'the human' who stole her brother away.”

Thorin laughs, a short bark, “Dís would not dare to tell me who I can and cannot love. She may be fiery but she would not deny me a chance at happiness. I will not lie to you, _Bâhzundushuh_ , it is forbidden for dwarves to court outside our race and many will not understand it and many will be against it but I have chosen this and I will not back away from it. A dwarf has one great love in his lifetime and for me, it is you.”

“Thorin,” I set the tweezers down and kiss him as his good arm wraps around me.

“I said I would tell you what _maralmizi_ meant if you came back to me and you have done so. It means I love you,” he says so earnestly. “Durin, I should not and everything is against us but I love you.”

“I love you also,” I rest my forehead to his. “Though I do not think you will love me when I remove the cloth from your wound. Then I think you shall curse me, in fact.”

“Do it. I trust you,” he bares his arm for me. “I would trust you with my life a thousand times over.”

**

Once I had patched up Thorin's wound, I took care of the other dwarves who had sustained injuries in the chase through Erebor. Being the only one there with healing knowledge, they were quiet and model patients for me as I did the best I could.

The search for the Arkenstone kept going throughout the next few days but Bilbo and I would hang back, knowing they would never find it.

I ended up talking to Kíli as I went through the north side of the hall some days after Smaug's death and he told me more about Dís as well. From what I could gather, she held all of the displaced Erebor dwarves together as they journeyed to the Blue Mountains and set up Thorin's Hall. She seemed to be quite formidable, a natural born princess.

“I also heard you would sneak off and get drunk in the human taverns,” I laugh, pawing through some armour in the gold pile.

“Not my finest hour,” he grins. “Fíli had to carry me back some nights. It was embarrassing. Raven-Eyed, can I tell you something if you promise to keep it a secret?”

“I promise,” I sit down, my back aching from bending over too much.

“I insisted on going a lot to that town because...because...the stable girl was beautiful.”

“The _human_ stable girl?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “I know that's awful to say for my kind but she just had the warmest smile. I can still picture it even now. I was devastated when she married but not like she would've ever looked at me that way.”

“She might have done, Kíli. Humans are not so rigid about who we like,” I pat him on the arm. “You are a fine lad and she would've been lucky to have you.”

“Perhaps I shall have better luck with the ladies of my own kind once they return,” he says ruefully. “I would like a companion.”

“They shall be queuing for the chance. The prince who helped liberate Erebor.”

“Sounds nice when you put it like that. Thanks for listening,” he squeezes my shoulder.

There's a crash in front of us and I look up, startled. I only see something swish by on the higher levels before I can focus so I have no idea what it was, only that weapons seemed to have dropped onto the pile.

“What was that about?” I wonder out loud.

“No idea. Maybe Dwalin's in a mood again.”

“Dwalin's over there,” I point to the east side. “I will go and see what it was.”

So I walk past Bifur, Bofur and Bombur but they say something to me as I pass that makes me stop.

“No luck, Myla?”

“Myla?” I question.

“Your name,” Bofur throws a large diamond over his shoulder. “Thorin told us. When he shouted in the hall as you jumped to shoot Smaug.”

That was most decidedly _not_ my name but I was not going to question it. I assumed it was Thorin covering his tracks after yelling his declaration of 'my love' for everyone to hear.

“No, no luck. Please, just call me Raven-Bearer, it is all I am used to now.”

“Well alright then,” Bofur smiles. “Though Dragon-Slayer is more fitting.”

“A fine addition to your halls.”

“Bit creepy if you ask me but I'm not the king,” he shrugs. “I'd get rid of his miserable hide, gold covered or not.”

“I must away for a while but if your wrist gives you any more trouble, I'll re-wrap it.”

“Appreciated,” he tips his hat.

So I walk to the higher levels, in the direction of the figure and find myself nearing the forges where I can hear hissing, the banging of a hammer on metal and the bellows pumping in rhythm. Someone was working in there.

I peered around the corner to see Thorin, shirtless and covered in sweat and soot as he worked on something over a bench. His arm was still bandaged but he used it like it did not hurt at all. I was memorised in fact watching him move.

“Is that my raven hiding in the shadows?” he calls but the tone is off. It's that strange reverent timbre again.

“It is,” I move out into the light. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Come to me,” he beckons and when I reach him, he's covered whatever he was working on before and placed something else in the space. “I have made these for you. They are golden hair cuffs for braids.”

They are so delicate and so finely made that I am in awe as I pick them up. The patterning is the same as his tattoos and the hinge is so secret, I can tell the craftsmanship is beyond anything I have ever seen.

“You made these for me? These are beautiful, Thorin,” I trace the pattern. “Thank you, truly.”

“I would shower you in gold adornments,” he murmurs, watching me appreciate his work.

“I will wear them with pride.”

“May I? It is a Dwarven custom for those courting to take care of each other's hair, to refresh the braids.”

“You know how to braid?” the question sounds silly when I say it out loud.

“I know the race of men are somewhat lacking in romance but we dwarves are not. We take care of our women and you are more precious than anything to me.”

“Won't the others guess that you have done this?”

“They will not. You could have found these ornaments anywhere after all. Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you.”

Again, the lilt in his voice is disconcerting but I still nod my consent and he has me sit on a chair that is much too short for me but puts me at the right height for him to fetch a comb and work through the knots that have gathered throughout the day.

I never realised how relaxing this was, to have someone treat me like this and I made an involuntary noise of pleasure as one of his hands came to massage the top of my head whilst the other dealt with the tangles at the bottom of my hair.

“Durin, I would hear that noise more,” he groans before undoing the basic braiding I had done to keep my eyes clear.

I never expected the talent he displayed as he took five strands from one side of my head and weaved them together, occasionally clasping it together with the golden adornments he'd made for me. I had never seen something so intricate before and again I was humbled by the skills of dwarves.

His hands moved from my hair to my shoulders, working out the aches that had gathered there before he surprised me by running his hands down over the front of them and just into the line of my tunic.

“Thorin, anyone could walk in,” I warn.

“Let them,” his lips are by my ear.

“You cannot say that after pretending my name is Myla.”

“I can say what I like, I am king, am I not?” he chuckles. “And I do not care if we are discovered, _Bâhzundushuh._ You are mine and if they see that then let them see.”

“But-” my words are cut off when kisses are placed to my neck and his hands delve further in.

His fingers skate over the swell of my breasts and all rational thought leaves me. It is as if we are on the wind lance tower again with just the two of us. All the while he whispers Khuzdul to me that I have no understanding of but the meaning still bleeds through.

“ _Mizimelûh...kidhuzurâl...ghivashel...amrâlimê._ ”

One hand retreats from my chest, sliding up my skin to my jaw where he turns my face to him and kisses me in a way that is pure hunger. I was beginning to lose myself in him, all reason cast into the fires of the forges next to us.

“So soft,” he murmurs against my lips as his hand cups my breast, the pad of his thumb tracing the peak he finds there. “Durin, you are so soft. My treasure of all treasures.”

Whistling can be heard approaching the hall and panic begins to set in. I did not want to be discovered and, at heart, I did not think Thorin did either.

I pulled away hurriedly but I felt the resistance of him trying to keep me in position. Did he truly mean to announce our love to the others?

“I should get back to the search.”

“No, my raven, you will go to my chambers. I would like you to select furs and fabrics that we can make into clothes for you. When my kin returns to Erebor, there is to be a celebration and your armour will not be appropriate. Get Balin to show you or maybe Dwalin since you have become more friendly as of late.”

I could not say why but at the mention of his friends' names, Thorin's manner of speaking became bitter. It was not the hateful glare he had given Bilbo but it still made me confused to hear him speak that way.

“Go now, Dragon-Slayer,” Thorin urges me on.

So I half flee before walking more naturally towards the entrance and Balin is coming the other way. He stops when he sees me, blinking and he looks terribly stunned.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask.

“I...uh...no, lass, nothing,” he clears his throat. “Did Thorin do that there wee braid by any chance?”

“He did,” I touch it, letting it fall through my fingers. “He made the gold clasps in the forge.”

“He made...”

“Balin?”

“Oh don't mind me,” he recovers himself. “Looks good on you, Dúnedain.”

“Thorin asked if you would show me to his chambers? I'm to pick some fabric for something to wear when everyone returns to Erebor.”

“Right you are. Let's go this way though, more scenic,” Balin shuffles forward.

The route he takes me is away from the others, through some winding staircases and into a large room that is grander than any I had ever seen. The bed was vast, spanning most of the back wall. There was a desk, writing equipment and some sort of light that glowed above it.

“You'll be wanting this,” Balin directs me to a chest on the opposite wall. “That has the finer fabrics in it.”

“I do not need fine fabrics,” I protest. “I am not nobility.”

“You are of the line,” he tries to make me understand. “See here now.”

He sits down on a cushioned bench and pats the side of himself until I join.

“You are of the Númenorean line, lass. I am aware you have no standing currently but if people found out who you are, they would accept you as having a rightful claim to Gondor.”

“I...I was not aware you knew of our history.”

“I read,” he taps his nose wisely.

“Well you should know I am not the heir to that throne.”

“It will not matter to Gondor whether they get Isildur's direct heir or their cousin. It is the symbolism of the thing that counts and it is the symbolism which counts here. Thorin wants you as you truly are and he wants to celebrate you. He has accepted all of you, after all.”

There was something in the way he said it that drew my suspicions. The longer I stared at him, the more uncomfortable Balin became.

“Promise me something, Dúnedain?” he sighs.

“What am I to promise?”

“That you will be careful. Thorin's grandfather lost his mind to a sickness, dragon sickness or gold sickness we call it but it breeds paranoia and greed. Durin's line is predisposed to it. I know you are...well, I know about you both, he told me as much but be careful. If he harms you in any way, you tell me and Dwalin. Understood?”

“You knew? How long?”

“Oh ages,” he chuckles but it's short. “Once the hatred passed, Dwalin and I could see the eyes you two were making at each other, the secret conversations when you thought no one was looking. Thorin all but confessed to me when we were in Mirkwood. I cannot say I understand it but I care for you both and I want you to be happy, even if happiness means I get you away from him if he...if he succumbs at any point.”

“Balin, you are a dear friend,” I take his hands. “He has not hurt me but I think he is not quite himself as of late. The way he says thing to me...”

“Aye, I know he is starting to suffer with it, even if he denies it. I just want you to be prepared for the worst should it come to pass.”

“I can handle him, Balin.”

“Just be careful, lass. I'll wait outside and I can walk you back when you're ready.”

So he leaves me to choose my own celebration attire. I am not used to such luxurious fabrics and furs and so I choose the ones that feel the nicest to my touch. If I am to wear them for an unknown length of time, I would need to be comfortable. The fabric was of deep blue, jewelled tones like a sapphire whilst the furs were deep rich brown with shades of auburn in the light.

When I met up with Balin again, the sun I think was setting. Another day had passed without anyone discovering the Arkenstone was missing.

In the forges, Thorin was still working and upon hearing us coming, he covered what he was making yet again.

“ _Bâhzundushuh,_ have you selected what you need?”

“I have,” I approach him.

“Then come with me and we shall do one last search for the Arkenstone. The others have already laid low for the night.”

“Thorin, the lass needs rest. She's been working hard this morning,” Balin cuts in.

“And she will rest soon enough. You seem tired, Balin. Perhaps you should retire also.”

“As you wish, my king,” Balin grits his jaw before giving me a meaningful look and walking away.

Once more into the piles of treasure I walk and he takes me to the south side where it is more hidden from the bridges and high landings. I finally think he might be seeing some sense.

“Are you unhappy with me, my love?” Thorin asks, watching me sink down and listlessly start picking through coins again.

“I am just exhausted.”

“Let me soothe you once more. We are alone now. Everyone is asleep,” he comes behind me to massage my shoulders again. “You needn't worry.”

“Thorin, I...” but the feeling is so good I trail off and my eyes flutter shut.

I do not sense what's coming until I feel something heavy at my neck and I open my eyes to look down and see white gems, white gems that must surely be the same ones King Thranduil spoke of. They gleamed with pure starlight.

“They would suit your pretty throat more than an elf's,” he murmurs. “Let me see you in golden finery, my jewel of jewels. Will you do that for me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

So he places me in bracelets, a dainty golden headdress and sparkling anklets of sapphires, treating my body like a sacred temple to adorn and decorate, to worship. Some part of me knew this was not quite the Thorin Oakenshield I had come to know but we were in his home now and he would not be the same journeying dwarf I had met, I tried to reason.

“By Durin,” he moans softly. “Such a beauteous sight and that you should be mine. Call me by that title, _Bâhzundushuh,_ I have come to love the sound of you saying it.”

“ _Melhekhul_.”

He is upon me, the need in him great as we kiss in the vast treasure hoard. His mannerisms are greedy, claiming and there is a point he nips at the skin of my collarbone and I am fearful he will bruise me. It is hard to explain new bruises away when there is no danger around.

“Be gentle,” I bid him.

“It is difficult,” his voice quakes with lust. “It is difficult when all I want to do is rip those clothes from you and take you for my own.”

“I am already yours, Thorin.”

“And it will remain that way,” the darker edge to his voice is unnerving.

“Let us not be so open with this. This is not what you wanted,” I push him back a little. “You wanted this secret so we shall keep it a secret.”

“Then you will come to my chambers with me.”

I'm almost dragged to my feet as he's racing along the corridors to the king's quarters. I am shedding the golden jewellery as fast as I can, pocketing the White Gems whilst he is not looking. Balin's words regarding gold sickness were racing through my mind and I thought if I hid any sign of precious metals that he might come back to his senses slightly.

Once we are in the room, his demeanour changes. The shyness I had seen on the wind lance tower has now returned and his grip on my hand slackens. It is like the past few hours have not happened at all to look at his face.

“I would sleep the night with you beside me. I have not slept well since we have been in separate quarters. I am too used to seeing your face when I awake, I think. That is, if you are willing to stay with me.”

“I will stay.”

“My mother had a nightshirt that might fit you. She liked them very long,” he goes searching through the chests. “There we are.”

I changed behind the screen for modesty and where the nightshirt was long on Thorin's mother, it came to my mid thigh but it was better than sleeping in old clothes. I felt safer now that Thorin was away from the treasure hoard.

Thorin was already in the bed when I came back and although we started innocently enough with a wide gulf between us, somewhere in the night we had gravitated to each other, my hand across his bare warm chest and his arm around my body, my head nestled in the crook of it. I discovered this when I awoke in the darkness and I must've disturbed him because he stirred as well.

“What is wrong, my love?” he slurs, sleep riddled.

“Nothing. Nothing's wrong.”

“This feels right, having you here, having you like this with me,” he murmurs on, still half asleep. “Go back to sleep, _Bâhzundushuh._ I've got you. Nothing can harm you. _Maralmizi_ ”

So I nestle in further as he kisses my forehead.

The change in Thorin from this morning to now is startling. It is like I have recovered the dwarf I fell for on the journey here and I know this Thorin would protect me no matter what, would never hurt me or push beyond propriety.

The other version of Thorin? I did not know and so I had to keep him away from the mountains of gold tomorrow no matter what.

Dragon sickness he surely had and I had to save him from himself before the sickness got worse.


	11. The Most Precious Jewel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's sickness worsens and puts everyone in danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, jealousy, possessive behaviour, dark!themes, angst, smut
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

When I awoke, I was alone in Thorin's chambers.

Jolting out of the bed, I rushed to my own borrowed quarters in nothing but Thorin's mother's nightshirt to change. From the light in the mountain, I had slept far too long and there was a danger Thorin had gone to the gold hoard again.

I ran once I redressed, stuffing the White Gems of Lasgalen into my belt pouch for safekeeping away from the dwarven king, and ran straight to the central hall. All of the dwarves and Bilbo, bar Thorin himself were gathered by the entrance and in high discussion. Something must have taken place that was agitating them.

“Bilbo,” I draw level to the hobbit. “What happened?”

“It's Thorin. He's lost his damned mind,” Bilbo turns to me wide eyed. “He's just refused Laketown their share of the treasure.”

“What?! Why?!”

“I don't know! Raven-Eyed, Smaug's fire reached the town...it's...well it's awful really. Bard came on behalf of his people for help and Thorin has told him to go and locked himself away. You need to find him. You're the only one he'll listen to.”

“Which way did he go?”

“Ask the others, they know Erebor better than I do.”

“Balin, Dwalin,” I call. “Where did he go? I need to find him.”

“Into the Gallery. Lass, don't go after him,” Balin looks fearful. “He's not well. I don't want you to be hurt. Go back to your chambers. _Now_. Don't argue with me.”

By now all the dwarves' attention was on me and some of them looked aghast. I had no idea what they were staring at or why until young Kíli walked forward.

“Is that a courting braid?!” he asks in astonishment.

“A what?” I don't understand.

“There, in your hair.”

“It's just a braid I did myself,” I try to lie.

“The five strands and the cuffs....you wouldn't know how to do that unless someone did it for you,” Kíli shakes his head.

“I....what's so surprising about a braid?”

“Lass,” Balin fights to the front of the dwarves now trying to congregate for a better look. “He didn't tell you what the significance was, did he?”

“What significance? Can someone tell me what's going on?!” I'm getting panicked now, knowing my secret is unravelling before my eyes.

“When dwarves want to officially court, they will place a braid of five strands in the female's hair with inherited or made cuffs,” Dwalin is blocking some of the others.

Now I understood why Balin had kept me away from the Company yesterday. They would've known in an instant. I could not believe Thorin would be so blatant after swearing me to secrecy.

After telling me that everyone would be against our love, he had exposed it to the people I was fearing judgement from the most.

“Wait a minute,” Kíli is right next to me now, despite Dwalin trying to control the dwarves. “Those are _Thorin's_ markings! The King's pattern!”

For the first time since the Dúnedain massacre, I froze. I did not know what to do or how to react to the bewildered looks of my companions.

“Thorin?” the murmur goes through them. “Thorin's markings?”

“Are you sure, young Kíli?” Óin tries to hear over the din.

“They are!” the prince reaches up to examine the end cuff in my hair. “I know his tattoos. These are the same patterns.”

Just as his fingers touch the strands, there's a great shout, a bellowing like an enraged animal that echoes around the entrance hall.

“KÍLI!”

We all turn to see Thorin in fine clothing with a crown upon his head, taking up the king's attire at last. The expression was not noble, however. It was _murderous_.

“Uncle!” the young dwarf jolts in alarm.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” the King under the Mountain is coming down the central staircase, not quickly but in a menacingly slow fashion. “YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER!”

“I was only looking!” Kíli tries to protest.

I back away from the prince immediately, not wanting him to be harmed for just being curious. Kíli, however, just stands there, oblivious to the oncoming storm coming his way.

Finally Thorin reaches us and all I see is darkness upon his face. It was more pronounced than last night, a shadow in the bright eyes that dulled them to a deeper colour.

“Only looking?” Thorin scoffs. “I have seen you nephew, I have seen you throughout this quest when you have constantly volunteered to help my raven whenever touch is required!”

“No, no that's not it!” Kíli furiously shakes his head.

“I have seen the conversations and I have seen when you took the opportunity to put your hands on my one in Laketown!”

“She was going to fall! I was helping her!”

“And I have overheard your mutterings to my love about your own proclivity for human women. You speak so openly to her about it to set yourself as a suitor. You mean to take what is _mine_!”

“Uncle, please!”

“Thorin, stop this,” I try to say firmly. “He was only curious about your craftsmanship.”

“He was curious that he might stand a chance since you have declared yourself to a dwarf. Do not make excuses for him, _Bâhzundushuh._ ”

“Thorin, that's enough,” Balin shields the young prince. “Can you even hear yourself? This is your _nephew_ , not some Iron Hills rival.”

“And what would our traditions mean to him? He is a child still.”

Kíli says the most fatal thing he can, “I am not a child! I am closer to the Dragon-Slayer's age than _you_ are!”

“So you freely admit you think you are a better match....I see....I see how it is.”

“You cannot talk of tradition, Thorin, when you've put the braid in a human's hair!” Glóin helps Balin protect Kíli. “What were you even thinking?! It's forbidden!”

“I am king! I make my own laws!” Thorin roars, unsheathing his sword. “Anyone who wishes to challenge me can fight me or be banished back to the Blue Mountains!”

“Put your sword away!” I get in between the angry dwarven king and the rest of the Company. “Please! Please do it for me!”

“They would seek to rip us apart,” Thorin's eyes are wild, overtaken by madness. “I will not give you up! I refuse!”

I get on my knees before him, looking up to try and make him see sense. If I prostrated myself enough, he might come around.

“Please, Thorin. I am begging you, see reason.”

For a moment I think I have gotten through to him. His expression softens, he sheathes his sword and reaches down to stroke my cheek but then the sickness sets in further. I watch the exact second where I lose him completely before my eyes.

“Listen to her, laddy,” Balin adds.

“Balin,” Thorin's voice is dangerously low. “You have ever been my friend. You stood with me upon my confession. For that I thank you. Master Baggins, you have also stood by me-”

I wish I could've silenced Kíli in that moment but the dwarven prince's pride was so bruised that he picked the fight that should have been left alone.

“-so they knew? How long have you been keeping this a secret from us?”

“You could've trusted us with it,” little Ori nervously wrings his hands. “I know it's not usual but we like the Raven-Eyed...or at least I do.”

“She is one of us,” Dwalin cuts in, trying to defuse everything. “She is more dwarf-kin than some of those back home. She has respected our culture, tried to learn our language and this was before Thorin started courting her.”

“You knew as well?!” Kíli won't stop and Fíli is trying to shut his brother up now.

“Yes they knew,” Thorin speaks again. “They could plainly see what you could not, nephew, that she belongs to _me_.”

“She's not an object in your hoard!”

In the blink of an eye, Thorin darts around my body, breaks through the line of dwarves protecting Kíli and hits him across the face. I scramble to my feet, chasing him as a brawl erupts.

Uncle and nephew are trying to do serious damage to the other, fists flying and blood spatters on the stone below but I don't know who it belongs to. All I know is that by the time I get into the fray, Kíli is on the ground and Thorin has a dagger poised to strike.

I throw myself over the dwarven prince.

“NO!”

Thorin pauses, panic in his gaze as his blade was a couple of inches from sinking into my chest. He drops it, stepping backwards just as everyone else manages to pull him away.

I hope that is the end of it but then a new danger starts.

“You would save him? You would throw your life away for him, _Bâhzundushuh?_ ” Thorin sounds so hurt. “When you wear my braid?”

“A braid you never told me the meaning of,” I get to my feet. “I am trying to stop you from doing something you will regret. I would leave Erebor if I thought it would stop you from turning on your own kin.”

“You will _not_ leave,” the sheer possessiveness in his voice frightens me.

I try another tactic, “If you wish me to stay, _melhekhul,_ then swear to me you will not harm anyone. Swear it on your honour.”

Thorin looks past me to Kíli who is being scraped up from the floor by Bifur. I can see he wants to resume his fight but he just sneers instead.

“Very well, I swear it but here and now you will declare yourself for me so no other of my so called Company shall think they have any claim.”

“They would not _want_ that claim.”

“SAY IT!” Thorin bellows.

“Thorin, please. Don't make her do this,” Balin tries to help.

“She calls me her king so she will pledge me her fealty and her love in front of all. You have all done this for me, she will now too.”

This is the only way out, the only way to de-escalate the situation. As much as this is humiliating, I still do it.

“I am yours, Thorin, son of Thráin, King under the Mountain.”

“And _only_ mine. Now you will come with me,” he takes my hand and begins leading me away.

“Where are you taking her?!” Bilbo weaves through the other dwarves.

“The most precious treasure I own should be protected. She will stay in my chambers.”

“You mean to lock me in there?!” I stop.

“You need go nowhere else until my kinfolk return.”

“I am not being imprisoned, Thorin!”

“You have sworn yourself to me and so I will keep you safe from everything,” he's pulling me along and his strength is much greater than mine, hewn in the forges throughout all of his life.

When I dig the heels of my boots into the stonework, when the others start trying to intervene, he drags me over his shoulder, my head nearly hitting the floor.

“You will stay here and defend Erebor from that glorified fisherman in Laketown. That is an order, do you understand me?” Thorin warns the other dwarves but Bilbo is still creeping forward, trying to save me.

Dwalin ends up capturing him in his arms as the Company obeys their king but I can see in my upside down position they do not want to but they are fearful of escalating the situation. Kíli in particular looks livid but he is too bloodied and bruised to try and do anything further.

I move to escape, pushing at Thorin's back but his grip was too tight and so I just aimed to make sure I did not hit the stairs as he took me up them.

Onto the king's quarters and once in the room, he locks the door with a key and hides it upon himself before putting me down and turning my face to look at the bed. Lying across it is a dress made of the fabrics I had picked out the day before.

“These are for you. You will wear them for me from tomorrow onwards. I shall make you more once I have dealt with the trouble in Laketown.”

“Thorin, I don't want-”

But he's pulled my head down until we are touching foreheads, desperately cradling my cheeks, “It is a dress fit for the queen you were meant to be, _bâhzundushuh_ , for the queen you shall become.”

“It is forbidden, Thorin. Our courtship, let alone marriage.”

“You think I care what is forbidden? I am king and I chose my heart, my one to rule at my side. All those dwarrowdams I had to endure, none of them had your nobility, your resilience and resourcefulness, your natural skill at leadership. You are a born queen, my love and you will get your chance to show that with me.”

“But I-”

“-and now I shall leave you but I will keep my word and not harm anyone. I will return with food for us later and we shall just be together, the two of us this evening. Will not that be nice, my raven?”

He doesn't even give me the chance to reply before unlocking the door, slipping out and relocking it.

I try the handle but the door is well made. Then my attention turns to the windows but when I look out of them, they only show me a view of a sheer drop. I cannot escape this way either.

I am trapped, utterly and completely trapped.

**

I was kept a prisoner in the king's quarters for days.

I ate with Thorin, dressed in the fine clothes and had nothing to do but wait for him to return when he left the room. The more he returned, the more golden adornments he brought back with him until I was sleeping every night covered in jewels.

I would clink when I walked and perhaps that was his way of tracking my movements because he awoke any time I would leave the bed to get water or go relieve myself.

He never hurt me though, never strayed over the line of decency either. He seemed more content to look at me most days, as though I were some fabulous precious stone myself. The touches were much more chaste than when we had been in the forges and he preferred to hold me in his arms more than anything indecent.

It was a strange existence, a half existence and I would've gone mad had it not been for Bilbo slipping me notes under the door whenever he could. He kept me informed about the breakdown in negotiations with Laketown, how Mirkwood was said to be coming to Bard's aid and how he was frightened a war was about to erupt.

He also kept me informed about Thorin's worsening mood, how Kíli was now barred from being in his presence and how he'd made the rest of the Company swear their fealty to him and I. More fights had broken out but ultimately everyone had fallen in line with his zealous demands, too apprehensive to rebel against the line of Durin.

I burned each letter as they came through, fearful that Thorin would find them.

Balin and Dwalin would sometimes sneak to the door, talking to me through it as they tried to remember what was in the king's chambers to keep me from losing my mind. I found scriptures, translation papers and so I learned Khuzdul as best as I could and queried pronunciations when either of them would come by.

“ _Bâhzundushuh_ ,” Thorin has re-entered during the middle of the day. “Oh let me look upon you.”

Today he seemed elated and that only worried me. Nothing good could've come from such joy in him lately.

“You will come with me to the entrance hall. Bard has insisted upon speaking to you, as has Thranduil. Now is my chance to show them you are mine.”  
  
He takes the excess jewellery off of me, making my accessories more streamlined with a golden belt and a necklace of star sapphire, one pear dropped jewel that hung prominently at my chest encased in dwarven patterns.

He does not find the hidden White Gems in my dress pocket, however. Now I know Thranduil is here, perhaps I can use them to broker peace.

“I have one final thing for you, my love,” he produces something wrapped in velvet and places it upon the bed. “This is what I have been working on in the forges. It was made just for you. You will wear it for me.”

And when I peeled back the fabric, a crown was sitting there, a crown the spit of his own but created for the features of my face. The detail was beautiful but all I saw upon looking at is was another set of fights that were sure to come.

I could not be a dwarven queen, nor had he even proposed a marriage offer and yet I was to wear his crown like a wedding had already taken place.

“Thorin, this is exquisite,” I start.

“I have toiled night and day at my bench,” his eyes are gleaming with pride. “It is my finest work.”

“I cannot wear this. Our friends...they will hate me.”

“No, no, no, _amrâlimê_ ,” which I had come to learn meant 'my love'. “If they refuse you as their ruler, they shall no longer have a home. You have done more for them than any dwarf has ever done and I will not have them spurn you. It is disrespectful. I would take them to the Gallery of the Kings, to the corpse of the dragon Smaug and ask them who was his doom? Who took back the mountain for them?”

“And Bard and Thranduil?”

“Bard cares not for the affairs of dwarves, only for what riches he can beg from us. The Elfking...he needs to be shown you are not his to toy with. Put the crown on....or is it not to your liking?”

The words seemed innocent enough but I was afraid of his ire so I did as he asked. The crown was lighter than I expected but I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

Still, if Thorin was to let me out of this prison of luxury, the crown would perhaps help me correct the damage he had done to our allies. It lent a degree of authority to my words.

When we got to the entrance hall, all of the Company were there, a good few feet away from the combined pairing of Bard and Thranduil who hovered near the doorway. Bard seemed vexed, Thranduil merely bored.

“By Mahal, Thorin!” Balin exclaims as soon as he sees the crown. “What have you done?!”

“I have done what is right and nothing more,” the King under the Mountain avoids the question.

“Now this _is_ interesting,” Thranduil does a half smile. “Elros' heir, not in Gondor's seat but Erebor's. Was I not worthy of an invite to this wedding?”

“There has _been_ no wedding!” Bilbo shouts angrily but I hush him with a raised hand.

Thorin cannot look weak here, no matter my own personal feelings and that of the Company.

“King Thranduil,” I bow my head. “Bard of Laketown. I understood you wished to see me.”

“You have vouched for this dwarf and his honour,” Bard begins in a rage. “You promised us you would make him keep his word. The whole of the waterfront was burned to the ground whilst you fought the dragon and we want our reparations.”

“And I am here to make sure those reparations are given,” Thranduil adds but I feel there is more to his motives.

“You have already been told I will not part with a single coin,” Thorin's volume matches Bard's. “ Why do you persist at my door?!”

“Thorin, they have given us weapons and provisions to reclaim the mountain. They deserve gold to rebuild. Might you not consider helping them rebuild Dale? Once that town is restored, you would have even more riches from trade.”

The greed is settling in his eyes as he considers my words but he is torn between protecting his current treasures and adding more.

“We would accept this. I am still willing to work together,” Bard is more addressing me than anything.

“I would not ally with any human who brings elves to my door to try and rattle me,” Thorin snarls, Bard's words undoing my own. “I am not afraid of the army of Mirkwood. The call has gone to our brothers in the Iron Hills and we shall defend this mountain to the death.”

“Do not be a fool!” Bard yells.

“Enough!” I get between them. “ _Kurdel_ , will you let me speak to them alone or at least with Balin and Dwalin as my sword and axe?”

The Khuzdul mollifies him a little but not wholly. I could see I was winning him over though.

“You want me to be queen, I shall be queen but that will include diplomatic relations. I would see you free to continue communicating with your kin in the Iron Hills and to count your treasures,” I add. “Let me take care of this business. It is what rangers do.”

“Balin, Dwalin, Glóin and Bofur, you will protect her,” Thorin nods to his companions. “The rest of you shall come with me to attend to our matters. The Queen of Erebor will handle the human and the elf.”

Thranduil raises an eyebrow in mirth but does not comment.

Thorin turns to me, “You shall kiss me before I leave, _amrâlimê._ ”

I know why he demands this of me. He wants to publicly stake his claim even further, his possessiveness rankled by Thranduil's arrival.

“Of course, _melhekhul._ ”

The atmosphere is uncomfortable but I boldly kiss the dwarven king in front of everyone present. I can sense Thorin weakening, the sickness lifting for just a moment, enough for him to leave me to salvage his mistakes.

I know Bard wants to say something, horrified by the display but I put my finger over my lips whilst Thorin's attention is on the back halls and Thranduil places a lithe hand on the man's shoulder to still his tongue also.

Thorin leaves along with the others of the Company not chosen to guard me. Bilbo is forced away and we lock eyes, unspoken kinship there. I did not realise how much I missed his company until it was taken from me.

“So he has succumbed to the same fate as his grandfather,” Thranduil shakes his head. “Disappointing.”

“He is tired. The battle with Smaug with fierce,” I lie.

“A battle I am told you won. That is impressive, heir of Elros.”

“Elros?” Bard looks at me. “You are of the line of Isildur?”

“I am but my heritage is not the discussion at hand. I believe I can broker the Dale deal with King Thorin if everyone keeps their heads. You are willing to ally with us, Bard, I can help. Just do not insult him or me and he may keep an even tone. King Thranduil, I have something of yours as a gesture of good will but I am not in a position to give them here.”

“Ah!” the Elvenking's eyes flicker. “A hunter and a tracker indeed.”

“Excuse me,” Balin interrupts. “I'd like to speak.”

“Then speak, master dwarf,” Thranduil turns to him.

“As much as her plan would be a good one, there is still an army of dwarves approaching The Lonely Mountain. It is not safe for the ranger to be here any longer. She is trying to hide his sickness from you but it is true, King Thranduil. He is sick and he will harm her at some point. He has already forced her into this role. Take her with you when you go. Get her to safety. Please.”

“Balin, that will start a war!” I exclaim. “You know he will come looking for me!”

“That is why you will go home. Go to your hut, forget about Erebor. It is the only place you will be safe, lass.”

“I cannot go.”

“Heir of Elros, do not let your heart overrule your head,” Thranduil is serious for once. “Love him, you may but he is dangerous right now. You have no guarantee he will not kill you if he thinks you have turned against him.”

“Then let me at least bring Bilbo with me. He should return to his home. He does not belong in a war.”

“Fetch the halfling then,” Bard nods. “He can share my horse.”

“Do you all agree then?” I turn to the other dwarves.

“He will end up hurting ya,” Glóin nods.

“I don't want you to leave but you have to, Raven-Eyed,” Bofur looks miserable.

“Dwarf sister,” Dwalin sighs. “Balin is right. You know I follow our traditions and this is beyond my realm of comfort but I cannot deny that Thorin loves you and that you love him. Do not let that love sour because of his actions. Leave him for a time and let him regains his senses, I will personally bring you back after that. Is that agreeable?”

“Promise me, Dwalin.”

“I swear it on my kin.”

“Then I will go. Let me bring Bilbo here. Make what preparations you need to.”

So I leave the entrance hall, going to the treasure hoard, finding Bilbo before I found anyone else.

“Do you still have it?” I whisper.

“The Arken-”

“Shhh!”

“Yes I have it. What's wrong?” Bilbo asks.

“Go to the entrance hall, Thranduil and Bard are getting us out of Erebor for a time. It is too dangerous for us to stay.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“No. No I am not but it has to be done.”

“I trust you,” the hobbit nods before slinking out of the halls.

I should follow him but my instinct is leading me to find Thorin. If this might be the last time I ever see him, I did not want to part on bad terms.

When I came to the Gallery of Kings, Thorin was looking at the golden covered body of Smaug on the golden floor. The same veneration in his eyes that the dragon had held for the statue in the great battle was there and I knew Balin and Dwalin were right. I could not stay. Not like this.

But I would have one last talk with him. I would spend these last precious moments in happiness with him.

“My king,” I announce my presence and his expression brightens upon seeing me. “We are taking an interlude from negotiations currently. I came to see you.”

“My queen,” he beams, eyes crinkling at the corner. “I am glad you would chose my company to share your time with in these irritating matters.”

“I would come for something else. Your affections.”

“You have them already.”

“And I would want more,” I reach him, drawing him to me and kissing him so he understands my meaning. “Why do you not touch me, _melhekhul?_ ”

“I did not think you were ready, in truth but if my queen wishes it, she shall have whatever she desires.”

“I desire _you_.”

There is so much danger of anyone walking this way but I do not have the time to bring him to the chambers we share and he may not let me out once I am back in. The setting does not matter, the need does.

“Here?”

“On our treasure, in front of our defeated enemy,” I lay the flattery and manipulation bare.

“I will not get the time to appreciate you as fully as I would like to here,” his fingers skip over the braid with a delicacy that was beautiful to watch.

“I know,” I sit on the golden ground and he follows me, laying me down on my back whilst he kisses me with such gentleness, I am doubting whether to go at all.

Surely this had to be my Thorin? My noble, secretly kind Thorin.

But there comes a turning point where the eyes darken again as he pulls up my skirts and lust fogs his gaze. His trousers are pushed down and he is between my legs, a point of no return between us.

“I have dreamed of this moment, _ghivashel_ ,” his touch is becoming rougher, instinct bleeding through. “You will truly be mine. My queen, my love.”

I had not known what to expect, whether the difference between a human lover and a dwarven lover would be markedly distinct. When he sheathed himself in the heat of me, I knew it was. The prowess of dwarves was remarkably larger than that of man.

“Durin, I have never felt such a sensation,” he half groans into my mouth. “We are a perfect fit. We are perfect together.”

The utter fullness was all I could think about, the way he moved within me, how he wrapped his arms around me and spoke my name through moans of pleasure. It was all consuming, so intimate and loving.

How could I leave him? I knew I must though.

“ _Maralmizi_ ,” his kisses become more insistent.

“I love you too,” I end up moving with him, bodies working in a rhythm, cries mingling together.

He leans up on one hand, his other delving between us towards the hidden bud most have no clue of.

“I use this trick with dwarrowdams but I think it will work for you as well,” his grin is playful and when his fingers begin circling, my noises get even louder. “You shall bring them all into the Gallery if you cannot be quiet, my raven.”

“I cannot help it!” I bite at my lip to stifle the whimper.

“When I shall have you again in my chambers, you will not hold those wonderful sounds back from me. I will drown in each and every one of them.”

“Thorin!” I clutch at his arms, arching as complete pleasure overtook me.

“My beautiful ranger,” he never breaks stride, gathering me in a tight embrace as he stills within me, his groan locked deep in his chest as he reaches his own end. “Mine. Mine in every way. I shall never let you go. Never. You are my heart. You are the other half of me. _Amrâlimê._ ”

The last kiss is bittersweet, laden with the ghosts of what could've been but if I lose my nerve now, I shall never leave. I have to be strong. I have to leave Erebor for him to overcome this sickness since I am the focus of it.

“I should get back before Dwalin causes a fight with Thranduil,” I touch my forehead to his, the metal of the crowns a dull thunk in the hall. “But I will desire more of this when we are in our chambers.”

“I desire more now but the Arkenstone must be found before my people arrive. Go, go be the queen of Erebor. You make me so proud, _Bâhzundushuh._ ”

The guilt wrenched me as he placed a tender kiss to the tip of my nose and withdrew, helping me up and to become proper in my attire again as he did the same to himself. Shades of his old self kept appearing and it was enough to make me want to wrap my arms around him and not let go but instead, I gave him one final kiss, a whispered word of love and walked away.

I walked away.

In the entrance hall, the four dwarves, Bilbo, Bard and Thranduil were waiting. Balin held a plain brown cloak and a bundle which I saw to be my usual clothes and weapons. It was starting to become more real that I was to leave.

“Put this around yourself,” Balin throws the cloak around my shoulders to hide the finery. “And you will have to leave the crown behind.”

“What will you tell him?” I take it off, handing it to Dwalin.

“We will think of something. Go now. Your window of opportunity is closing.”

So I embraced everyone I could and walked out of Erebor with my mixed party of new companions, strapping my sword around my waist and discarding the golden belt on the ground.

One horse stood there which Bard helped Bilbo to climb upon before getting behind him. Next to the horse was a grand elk and Thranduil gestured towards it.

“Am I to ride with you?” I ask.

“That you are, queen of Erebor,” he says with a lilted laugh. “Let me help you.”

Gallantly, he boosts me over the elk's back before coming up behind me. I am not used to the motion of the beast walking and nearly fall forward so Thranduil's arm comes around my waist to secure me in position.

“It takes skill to ride a great elk,” he says in my ear. “There are not many who can. Do not lean or you will fall.”

“So you are to return me to my home?”

“I am. Thorin Oakenshield will not leave the dragon's treasure to come find you. It has taken him a year to reach the mountain, he would not leave it undefended for that long.”

“You do not know him.”

“Still his loyal ranger to the end,” Thranduil sighs. “I told you your love could not be and yet even when you were poised to leave him, you went for one last tryst....or was it the first?”

My body went rigid. How could he even tell?

“I am very old, heir of Elros. I know the signs,” he whispers in my ear. “The most bittersweet love is the one that ends prematurely. Your heart will heal in time.”

I said nothing for the remainder of the journey back. Grief tearing at me as we reached Dale to stop for the day.

As I slipped from the back of the elk, I handed the White Gems of Lasgalen to Thranduil.

“I said I was no thief but it did not feel right to have them within the hoard.”

“Thank you, ranger,” Thranduil delicately fondles the settings on the stones, a curiously sad look overcoming him for a time.

I turn to find a place to be alone before the tears start falling but Thranduil grabs my wrist lightly so I stay in place.

“It will hurt, there is no doubt it will but the pain will ease. This I do promise you.”

I just nod mutely, wandering off as Rathak finds me after so many days of being apart and lands on my shoulder. My wish to be alone is broken by Bilbo but I do not mind that intrusion.

“So we're really doing this?” he sits down next to me.

“Yes, Master Baggins. We are going home.”

“Are you alright?”

“No. No I am very far from alright,” I laugh because I know the tears are finally breaking over and I ball into myself as Bilbo loops his arm around me and lays his head on my shoulder and Rathak nestles into my neck, trying to soothe me.

But it felt like nothing would ever soothe me again.

I had left my heart in that mountain.


	12. The Five Armies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many armies march to Erebor's door and you're caught in the middle of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, violence
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

Thorin came back into the entrance hall in the early evening, filled with contentment and glee.

You were his, in every way you were his and everyone had pledged themselves to you as his queen. When the other dwarves came back, they would do so too or make the long journey back to Eriador in shame. He would have you and he would have his birthright.

“Where is my raven?” he asks when he spots the hall empty of the fisherman and the coward elf.

Balin, Dwalin, Glóin and Bofur are by the door looking distraught. Something about that unsettled him greatly.

“ _Where is she?_ ” he repeats, a little more panicked.

“Gone,” Balin works up the courage to speak. “She's gone, laddy.”

“Gone where?!”

“Thrand-”

“NO!” Thorin roars. “I should never have left her alone with him! He's taken her! He knew what I felt in Mirkwood and he seeks to antagonise me! If he wants a war, he has his war.”

“Thorin, she went of her own free will,” Dwalin tries to interrupt.

But that was absurd. How could his sweet ranger have left voluntarily? Not you, not the you who just became one with him, who melded heart and soul together in the Gallery of the Kings. You would never do that and leave. It did not make sense.

“Do not make excuses! They have taken her from me and I will get her back!”

“We are so few,” Balin tries to reason. “So few dwarves, Thorin. We cannot stand against Mirkwood. At least wait until Dáin and his clan arrive from the Iron Hills.”

“I would take my Company over ten thousand Iron Hills dwarves. I will not wait. Each hour she is apart from me could mean her life. If she were to die, I would climb to the top of this forsaken mountain and-”

“-Thorin, peace,” Dwalin approaches tentatively. “You will see her again but not if you do something like this. War will not help you.”

“And what will?! Fine, I shall go out there myself and retrieve her. I will cut the ears off of that treacherous snake. I will gut the fisherman from head to stem. She. is. _MINE!_ ”

“Somebody's coming,” Bofur is on the parapet, looking out at the plains. “It's the Elfking and Bard. They're coming back?!”

Thorin rushes up the stairs, spotting the horse and the elk bearing their riders closer. Frantically he looks from human to elf but sees no signs of you anywhere.

So they had come to broker a ransom. They wanted his gold for you. Of course they did.

They would find Thorin, son of Thráin was not so easily blackmailed.

**

Bilbo left me on my own eventually, sensing I needed space.

It was hard to think straight though with the refugees from the Laketown waterfront taking shelter in the ruins of Dale. So much constant noise and so much tragedy.

I had no peace to stew in my misery.

Instead I was set upon by a man who blamed me for everything.

“You said we could trust you!” he held out a rusty dagger. “Instead you brought ruin down upon us! Why do you cower in the fray of your own destruction?!”

“I do not cower,” I stand up. “And I have killed the great dragon. Do you think I would not do the same to you? Go be with your people. I have left so there will be peace in the mountain and you can get your reparations.”

But he does not listen, too blinded by hatred and tries to take a swing at me. I block his arm with one hand and hit him in the face with the other. That does not soothe his rage either. He is determined to kill me.

There's a whistling and the man drops to the floor with a much more ornate dagger buried into his temple.

“You are welcome, ranger,” a soft voice from the shadows and I see the elf that is always at Rivendell whom I give my reports to about the state of Eriador for Lord Elrond.

“You?” I watch her come into the light, clothing designed not to be noticed, dark hair with fading silver clinging to the ends of it. “What are you doing here?”

“Stopping this war from being as bloody as it can be,” she answers in that vague manner she always does. “You must not go back to your post. It is not safe.”

“And neither is staying here.”

“The King under the Mountain will tear apart the world to find you; wage wars against those who stand in his way. I would not see my own king hurt for your sake, ranger. Go and show Thorin Oakenshield you have left of your own volition.”

“Your king...whom do you serve?!”  
  
I had always assumed Elrond but she just gives me a tight lipped smile and nods in a direction I think King Thranduil is in. It is then that I know Thranduil actually gained his information about me through her.

“Go find the halfling. He has done something which will incite a massacre,” she approaches me before bending down and whispering in my ear. “And the orcs are still trailing you.”

If Azog was still approaching, all he would need to do was to wait for the elves, humans and dwarves to kill each other and destroy what remained. I could not let that happen.

When I turned to address the elf, she was gone but her words had gotten me worried. I sent Rathak to go scouting first, to see if he could determine where the orc pack was at present. Then I went searching for Bilbo.

I found him looking out at the plain towards the doors of Erebor.

“What did you do?” I ask him immediately.

“Er, what?” he blinks, startled by my intensity.

“What did you do just now?”

“I gave Bard the Arkenstone. We don't need it when we go home and he can use it to still get his gold in a barter exchange.”

“You gave....Bilbo, Thorin will do anything to get that stone but he will not part with _one_ coin from the hoard to do it. You have given him the excuse to wilfully murder Bard.”

“I...oh no,” Bilbo's face drains of colour. “What do we do?!”

“I'm going back. If he kills Bard, he'll have all of Laketown rising up against him and Mirkwood too.”

“You can't go back. That's ridiculous! If Thorin gets you back in Erebor, he'll lock you away again!”

“What choice do I have? I have to try, Bilbo. The Iron Hill dwarves can either meet Thorin as an old friend or a battle ally once they get here. I would rather be locked in a room with peace and friendship in the mountain than out here with open warfare.”

“Raven-Eyed...” Bilbo looks incredibly pained. “The burden is not on you to be jewellery hidden in a chest.”

“Yes, I rather think it is,” I shake my head. “If I am never to see the sun again, so be it. I will be the ranger that perished away from the woods.”

He tries to grab me but I shake out of his grip, moving to a quiet spot to change into my normal attire, the dress bundled and put on the back of a horse near the market area. It was a gift after all. I would not insult Thorin by discarding it.

“I'm coming with you!” Bilbo is sprinting the best that he can.

“It's dangerous, Master Baggins.”

“Yes it is. It's very dangerous but you're my friend and I'm not letting you do this alone. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Already overcome by leaving Erebor and Thorin this morning, I sank onto the stone and hugged the hobbit to me. I knew by the determination in his face that he meant every word he had said.

“You are my truest friend, Bilbo,” I nearly lose my composure again.

“And I always will be. Even if you went back to your hut, I know where it is now. I'd come and visit...well I'd send a letter first. It's the polite thing to do.”

That makes me laugh a little and I steel myself for the prospect ahead before helping Bilbo onto the horse and jumping up onto it behind him. Then we set off across the plain.

When we reach the doors of Erebor, a stand off is occurring.

Thorin is on the walls, bow aimed right at Bard as he's yelling about the Arkenstone. Bard has a bow aimed right back at him and Thranduil has his sword drawn.

“This is all my fault,” Bilbo murmurs, watching the scene take place.

“You did what you thought was best at the time,” I reassure him before spurring the horse forward.

“-YOU WILL NOT GET ONE SINGLE SCRAP OF GOLDDUST FROM ME!” Thorin is raging. “YOU STAND IN _MY_ HALLS, WITH _MY_ HOSPITALITY AND STEAL MY LOVE AWAY FROM ME! _ABR_ _ÂFU SHAIKMASHÂZ_!”

“What did he say?” Bilbo asks me, knowing I've been trying to learn the dwarven language.

“He just called him a descendants of rats,” I mutter back.

“Oh....lovely.”

“I DID NOTHING YOU DID NOT FACILITATE YOURSELF!” Bard yells back. “YOU DROVE HER AWAY, KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN!”

“LIAR! YOU TOOK HER FROM ME AND THE ARKENSTONE TOO! YOU ARE A THIEF! YOU ARE DISHONOURABLE! YOU ARE....you are.....” Thorin drops his bow as he catches sight of me. “Your plan has failed, Bard of Laketown! My love has returned home to me and Master Baggins as well.”

“What are you doing?!” Bard looks apoplectic. “You're meant to be going home!”

“The raven does not want to leave her new roost it seems,” Thranduil's eyebrow arches, looking incredibly exasperated.

I get off the horse and approach the doors, seeing that Thorin has only worsened in the short time I've been away. His gaze upon me is extremely avaricious.

“Come back in the halls, _Bâhzundushuh_ ,” he speaks. “I would not let you spend another second around these snakes who mean to hold you.”

“They do not hold me, Thorin. I left willingly,” I say clearly.

“This is something they are making you say,” he shakes his head fervently.

“No, they are not.”

“You are under duress.”

“No, I am _not_ ,” I'm getting frustrated.

“You would never go willingly. Not after what you have said and what you have done.”

“Thorin, I left you!” I end up shouting. “I left because you kept me imprisoned, because you threatened your own kin, because you were going to hurt me. They only offered me a way out and I took it.”

“They have twisted your mind,” he still vehemently denies it. “The Elfking has bewitched your memories.”

“If I was going to bewitch her, I'd do something much more spectacular than this,” Thranduil laughs, highly amused.

Thorin lets an arrow fly at Thranduil who casually knocks it away with his sword. The King of Mirkwood is barely fazed.

“STOP THIS!” my voice gets louder. “I am not bewitched! I am not under duress! I left!”

“No...no Bilbo put you up to this,” Thorin's searching for someone else to blame again. “He stole the Arkenstone and gave it to my enemies and he lied to you to get you to go.”

“He did no such thing!” I'm angrier than I've ever been. Bilbo did not deserve to be the focus of my own struggles with the King under the Mountain. “ _I_ was the one that hid the Arkenstone from you. I found it on the first day we entered Erebor and I kept it a secret because you cannot see that you are sick, Thorin. You have the same sickness as your grandfather and I will not make it worse with this gem.”

“You...you had the Arkenstone all along?” I am finally getting through to him.

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“Why would you do this to me?” betrayal is rent in his voice.

“Because I love you.”

Thorin staggers backwards a little bit from the parapet, clutching over his heart like he could not breathe. From the movement of his shoulders, I think he's weeping.

“You know what that stone meant to me!” he finds his voice again. “And you kept it from me! You accepted my home, my gifts and my love and you deny me the one thing that solidifies my claim! How can you stand there and speak to me of love?! Deceiver! All you wanted from me was my wealth! You do not love me!”

“Get back,” Bard warns in a quiet voice. “Get back now.”

But I ignore him. It hurt me to hear him dismissing what I felt, how I was trying to help him.

“Everything I do is out of love for you, Thorin,” my own tone is getting hitched and I no longer care our war of words is open for everyone to see. “You will see that in time and I will be waiting for you when you do.”

I turn to go back to the horse but there's a shout from Bard and Thranduil and an arrow sticks fast in the ground a foot away from me. When I turn, Thorin is lowering the bow and he's being mobbed by the other dwarves who are trying to wrest it away from him.

I know he can shoot passably and I was an easy target. He did not intend to hit me and I took hope from that.

Both of us were hurting and, as I got back on the horse and rode away, I looked over my shoulder one last time to see him completely break down in tears as he watched me go.

“Look forward, Heir of Elros. If he sees even one moment of weakness that you would go back, he will seize the chance,” Thranduil's tone is firm.

“I think he has already seen it,” my cheeks are wet with my own heartache before I finally look away. “That was foolish to try and barter with him in that condition.”

“I'm only here to escort Bard,” Thranduil's elk slows down to keep pace with my horse.

“You were only here for the White Gems and now you have them. Why do you and your army still remain?”

“I have my own reasons.”

“Like what?” Bilbo asks.

Thranduil does not answer.

“There has to be something you need from Erebor or you would not risk fighting against it,” Bilbo continues.

“You assume I _will_ fight against it,” he says much more quietly so Bard does not hear. “The bowman afforded me the chance to assess the state of Thorin's mind. It is something from the dwarven king I need and now I have a choice to make should the time come for war.”

“The time _is_ coming and he will not accept your help should it come to it. There is too much animosity,” I shake my head.

“He will when he realises you are going to be in the middle of this battle of armies and I am the only one who can protect you.”

“Your spy mentioned the orc pack was coming as well. Why _did_ you send a spy to Rivendell in the first place?”

“I am already besieged in my kingdom by enemies from the north and south. I wanted to know if enemies from the west were coming also. You are the only isolated ranger away from the Dúnedain camps and therefore the perfect one to send my spymaster to.”

“It is no wonder Lord Elrond seemed uninformed when I met him.”

“Oh do not look aggrieved,” Thranduil rolls his eyes. “Politics are beyond your kind since Arthedain fell.”

“And yet I find myself in the centre of them and shortly that will be a literal term once you throw me into the wolf's mouth.”

“As I said, I am the only one who can protect you from the bloodshed to come and that will grant me a favour in the future and maybe I shall put this animosity behind me. I once had a great friendship with the Kings under the Mountain and I am weary of being enemies. Hatred is so much more poisonous when you live a long life.”

“So you're going to throw her into the middle of a battle to establish an alliance?” Bilbo seems livid. “Do you have no shame?”

“None whatsoever,” Thranduil half smirks. “I do what is best for my people. That is a king's duty.”

“We could run,” Bilbo whispers directly into my ear, twisting around on the horse.

“No, my friend. I cannot run any longer. I am tired of this,” I sigh. “It was never my fate to return home. That does not mean you should not go.”

“I'm not going anywhere. I have no skill in fighting but I shall do my best at your side.”

“Until the end then.”

“And let's make it a good one. Oh! Look who's back,” Bilbo points as Rathak is flying towards us.

He lands on my outstretched wrist, ruffled and indignant as he tells me there's another army marching this way. The pack of Azog's orcs is a pack no longer. They shot arrows at my raven friend when they spotted him, recognising his appearance from when they had chased us to Beorn's house.

“So there are to be five armies then,” I recount for everyone. “Azog is nearly here.”

“Five?!” Bard looks ill. “Then we are to be outnumbered.”

“The Defiler is only interested in Thorin and his Company. They will not bother with humans or elves,” Thranduil looks out of the corner of his eye. “I suggest we start preparing.”

“And I suggest we find you some armour,” I murmur to Bilbo.

“Already did that,” the hobbit admits shyly. “Took some chainmail when I thought Thorin might kill us all.”

“Do not feel bad, Bilbo. It might just save your life.”

**

I stood on the centre of the battlefield, surrounded by soldiers on all sides just as Thranduil had stated he would place me.

What I did _not_ expect was to be facing not only the Iron Hill dwarves' leader but my own Thorin as well. I had not anticipated him to leave his golden hoard but I knew the reason why soon enough.

“You still have some of my treasure, ranger,” he points to the hair cuffs in my braid and at the star sapphire necklace that it had slipped my mind to take off. “You have no right to it.”

“Then take it,” I unclasp the necklace and throw it at him. “But I shall not undo your braid. I have not undone it even though you have turned against me and I will not even if you hate every fibre of my soul.”

“You put a courting braid in a human's hair?!” Dáin looks aghast at the King under the Mountain. “Are you mad?!”

“I was deceived,” Thorin glares at me. “This ranger spoke of love and it has blinded me. She has been nothing but false.”

“So false I was your companion for a year as we journeyed here and saved your life many times. So false I faced down a dragon and bested it for you. So false I helped reclaim your lost home. If I only intended to travel with you for riches and gain, surely I would've left at the first sign that this quest was far too dangerous for what I would get out of it,” I reason. “If I only intended riches and gain, I would not risk doing something that would jeopardise your position as king...like openly declare that I love you.”

“I think I'll vomit soon if I have to hear much more 'a this,” Dáin curls his lip. “Just kill the wee human and be done with it, Oakenshield. She doesn't matter when there is fightin' to be had.”

“I will do you a last kindness, Dúnedain,” Thorin addresses me. “Leave. Leave and never come back.”

I can see in his eyes that he is softening, maybe that he has enough rational thought to try and get me out of the line of fire.

“ _Melhekhul_ ,” I bow my head and step backwards, towards Thranduil without ever taking my eyes off of Thorin.

In that moment when I called him king, it affected him deeply. Logic was fighting back against the sickness and the light was creeping back into those azure eyes.

Thranduil, upon his elk, touched me upon the shoulder to reassure me. I knew he had hoped Thorin might call off the battle.

That touch turned out to be the spark for war.

One blink of the eye was all it took for Thorin to signal Bombur to sound the horns and the fighting happened immediately. I scarcely had time to draw my sword before the lines clashed together.

I did my best to only defend, not attack. I did not want to hurt anyone; dwarf, elf or human. It was becoming hard to shove the attacking army back without causing some injury and when Rathak screamed at me from overhead that Azog's army was waiting on the Ravenhill, I saw the opportunity to escape the potential to kill friends and allies.

If I could not bring Thorin back to me, I could try to take out the hidden enemy that had plagued us the entire way here. I would do that one last act for him before I accepted our love was past the point of no return.

“Azog is on the hill!” I call to Thranduil. “And that is where I shall go!”

“Ranger, get back here now!” the Elvenking looks at me as if I am mad. “You cannot take on an orc army by yourself!”

“I only need to kill Azog,” I slip through the thronging fray.

“RANGER! By the Valar...give me spiders, give me trolls, _anything_ but a lovesick human,” Thranduil snarls as he tries to fight his way over to guard me but Thorin stops his progress. I only have time to see they are locked in a fierce combat together before I weave through the battle.

With a glancing blow, I am knocked onto my side, the wind driven out of me. Heavy footsteps approach as I scramble for my sword and see the hammer miss me by inches as I rolled.

Dáin was bearing down on me, no doubt thinking that if he killed the catalyst for this mess, that victory would be assured.

“Stay still and I will make it quick and painless, human,” he bares his teeth. “One tap to the right spot on your head and you're gone from this world.”

“Thorin will never forgive you if you do this,” I manage to get a grip on the hilt.

“He may whinge about it for a time but then he'll do his duty. Kings always do,” the hammer comes down again and I dodge it.

From behind Dáin, there's a clang and the dwarf goes sprawling forward. Bilbo is behind him, using the hilt of his sword to knock my attacker unconscious.

“You looked like you needed help,” the hobbit seems a bit startled his plan worked.

“I did, thank you. I'm heading for the Ravenhill to kill Azog.”

“Let's go then.”

“It's dangerous, Bilbo.”

“So is this!” he gestures around himself. “You know I am good with stealth. You saw it with Smaug. Let me come with you.”

“Then stay close to me,” I wrangle a riderless horse and put us both upon it before riding away to the bottom of the hill.

Once there we dismounted halfway up, the terrain too steep and rocky for the horse's safety and we moved quietly and quickly up, hoping we would not be spotted. Within seconds, I appeared to be alone and Bilbo was nowhere to be seen but I heard him.

It still perplexed me how he managed to disappear from view but right now that was to our advantage. If he was able to scout the top of the hill for me, I stood a chance of avoiding being ambushed.

Together we could do this.

**

“Never trust an elf!” Thorin slashes at Thranduil with his sword.

“I do not know why you are so angry with me, King under the Mountain, when you have barred her from your sight. You gave up your right to be ired when you shot an arrow at her,” Thranduil answers calmly, ducking with grace.

“You and I both know that I did not intend to harm her!”

“You already did that when you imprisoned her against her will,” Thranduil sneers. “And still she loves you. That is all she has ever done. I offered her a seat by my side in Mirkwood, with all the wealth that would come with it and she rejected it the second the words left my lips. I was curious to know if it was greed or love that motivated her and it was love. She loves Thorin Oakenshield, not King Thorin, son of Thráin.

As you once said to me, you would give up your kingdom for her and yet she is the one who sacrifices everything for _you_.”

Thorin gave an enraged shout and attacked once more, Thranduil parrying the blows but barely. The strength Thorin was placing into his slashes was fierce, a hatred burning bright but the hatred was turning from Thranduil inwards, into himself.

“Even now she races up the Ravenhill to kill your other old enemy, Azog, in your name,” Thranduil points to the clifftop. “The ranger is ready to die fighting an entire orc pack and you have prevented me from following her to keep her safe. Her death will be on _your_ hands, treasure hoarder.”

At those words, Thorin felt an icy grip squeezing at his chest as he looked to the cliff and saw the tiny figure of you ascending it, all alone. All of his pain, all of his greed and all of his rage drained from his soul and the one abiding emotion he was left with was fear, total fear that you would be killed the second you got into the ruins.

“No...” he felt the horror roll through him.

“I will give you a path back to your friends. Fetch your companions and save her,” Thranduil nods, seeing the change within him.

For the first time in Thorin's life, he fought side by side with an elf, confusing the Iron Hill dwarves so much that they backed away to let them through the line.

“KÍLI!” Thorin calls and the young prince comes over. “Get Dáin's war chariot! The Raven-Bearer is in danger!”

“You want...right!” Kíli blinks in astonishment before calling the others and they commandeered it, Thorin jumping onto the side as they raced forward through the fierce battle.

Balin, Dwalin, Kíli and Fíli rode with him to the bottom of the Ravenhill and up as far as they could go.

“Thorin...are you....” Balin asks the question all of his kin wants to.

“I am myself again,” Thorin looks at them with great shame. “But the time for my apologies can wait. I will not leave my raven in danger when she has charged up there alone in my name to kill the Defiler.”

“She's gone after Azog?!” Fíli pales.

“And we shall go after her. We shall lend her our strength and our swords and our axes,” Dwalin nods.

“Kili, are you with me?” Thorin comes over, touching foreheads with his nephew who flinches a little, expecting it to be a trick. “Will you help me save her?”

“Of course. I would see you both happy, uncle. That's all I wanted.”

“Out of all of our kin, you understand my feelings the most,” Thorin nods before signalling to move forward. “Now let us save our dragon-slayer.”

Thorin sprinted up the rest of the hill, terror gripping his very being as he wondered what was awaiting him up there. Were you even still alive? He would never forgive himself for driving you to think that this was a good plan, for making you think you had to prove your loyalty to him.

As he reached the steps to the ruins, he heard a shriek of pain and the cries of other voices mingling with them. If he had not heard your screams in Mirkwood, he never would've known which voice belonged to which but he categorically knew at that point that something terrible had happened to you.

“Hold on, _amrâlimê!_ I'm coming for you!”


	13. The Dwarves of Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azog awaits on the hill. What will the dwarves of Erebor find up there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mortal Peril, Death, Angst
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)

I hovered at the back of the ruins, waiting for Bilbo's signal. I could see movement in the far tower but I had no way of telling how many orcs were there.

“The army is charging down the hill but there's about twenty here. Azog is in the tower,” Bilbo's disembodied voice startles me.

“If you can take any of the stragglers out, do it. I'm going after the Defiler.”

“Be careful, Raven-Eyed. I stole this for you,” a bow and quiver appear from nowhere.

“Thank you. At the first sign of danger, get off this hill. I would not have you die for my sake, my friend.”

“Well at least if I died here I would be the most famous hobbit in generations.”

“I am serious, Bilbo.”

“Oh shut up and get on with it. I have your back.”

And with that chiding, I scale the wall in front of me, hands and feet digging into the cracks as I get to the top, stalking along the surrounding wall. I manage to use the bow that's not ideally made but I kill a couple of orcs that were lingering around the bottom of the tower before pressing forward.

I'm not far from climbing up it when Rathak comes screaming at me from above that some of the warg riders were hiding on the other side of the hill. I have time to turn, see the small pack that had been following the Company all this time before an arrow flew towards me.

There was a shriek, a strangled caw and my best friend during my lonely years in the forest fell to the ground. He'd given his life to save mine.

“NO!”

The rage I felt was indescribable. Upon seeing the leering faces of the orcs, it burned even brighter.

My cries turned from anger to pain as another arrow buried itself in my shoulder and the momentum knocked me backwards. I stumbled before falling off the wall and down, down into the icy courtyard where I landed on the arrow shaft which punched further in, jarring the bone.

I remember howling in agony as something dragged me backwards and onto the frozen lake. I could only assume it was Bilbo.

“Get up!” the hobbit hisses in my ear. “They're coming!”

And they were. Warg riders slipping through the ruins to prowl towards us. Three in total. Azog was behind them on foot.

The odds of survival were possible but not certain.

I briefly looked behind me and saw nothing but the sheer drop over the cliff and knew if we got cornered, there was no way out.

“Get your sword ready, my friend,” I get to my feet, slipping slightly on the ice before breaking the arrow shaft with a grunt so only the head was in my skin. “This is where we make our last stand.”

One warg was venturing further than the others and I readied the bow, daring them to make a move. My arms were shaking, the bowstring vibrating violently as I struggled to master the pain and keep it steady. Knowing I had seconds left before my grip gave out, I made the choice to shoot.

I hit the warg in the eye, killing it instantly and bucking the rider off. That gave a signal to the others to chase us down.

I drew my sword, thinking this was the end before arrows came from the right and killed a second warg and the rider. Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Kíli and Fíli were running full speed towards us, although they only saw me standing there.

“ _Bâhzundushuh,_ run!” Thorin yells.

“Go, Bilbo. Take out the orc without the warg,” I urge and I see the footprints on the ice moving away.

Meanwhile Thorin had gone straight for Azog, sword bared as they clashed violently. Balin and Dwalin were running for the orcs in the tower and Kíli and Fíli were trying to bring down the last warg.

I clutched my arm, trying to massage the wound to get some movement back. I was no use in a straight sword fight any more but I could make a few last shots if I was lucky enough.

When I'd started to nock an arrow, I heard Kíli crying out in fear. Fíli was in the mouth of the warg struggling as the creature was biting down slowly.

I had no time to stop it, only to try something I had no idea if it would work. I mangled the beast language as best as I could and shouted at the warg to look over here.

I'd never attempted to speak to dark creatures before, though I knew some vernacular.

The warg opens its mouth in shock, gormlessly looking my way with sheer astonishment before I let my arrow fly into its face as Kíli pulled his brother clear.

The damage was done though to my shoulder and I dropped the bow, hitting the ground hard as they finished the creature and the orc off.

Both princes rushed over after that, Fíli a little worse for wear but not bleeding in an alarming way. They helped me up and off the battlefield as orcs spilled onto the ice.

“Thank you, dragon-slayer,” Fíli touches his head to mine briefly. “I owe you my life.”

“I am more surprised that that worked,” I laugh but it's cut off by the twisting sensation in my shoulder. “Go help Balin and Dwalin. There are more orcs in that tower than they think.”

“What did Rathak say? Any more coming?” Kíli asks.

“Rathak... they killed him,” it hurts to say out loud. “But the last thing he said was that all the army was now down below.”

“I am sorry, my friend,” Kíli and Fíli manage to say in perfect unison.

“Go. I'll be fine here. Bilbo is around if I need help.”

So the dwarven princes run back into the fray, Fíli frowning slightly as he fought the pain of his own superficial wounds.

My attention was on Thorin, however, who was losing the fight against Azog. With one clever stamp of his foot, Thorin broke the ice around himself to give him time to recover.

Azog, being bulkier, taller and clumsier, floundered as his sure footing was torn away and he slipped under the water with a great splash. There must be a current still in the frozen depths because Azog disappeared from sight very quickly and Thorin tracked him towards the cliff edge, peering through the glittering whiteness of the cracks.

I looked away for one moment to see how the others were faring and Thorin's scream nearly stopped my breath.

I got up without thinking, running on instinct as Thorin fell, the Defiler's metal claw piercing his foot from below. Azog clambered out onto firmer ground, ready to strike the death blow but I took the brunt of the assault myself as I barrelled into the Pale Orc and we both went under into the freezing water.

I could barely see anything, my extremities were going numb already and I clung to Azog's claw so I couldn't be stabbed with it. It was terrifying being trapped, not knowing if I would die from a laceration or drowning.

A hand grabbed the back of my leather armour and hauled me away, my head breaking the surface as I gasped in desperation. Thorin pulled me up but the Defiler was keeping a grip on my leg and was dragged onto the bank also.

In one graceful leap, Thorin protected my body whilst Azog slashed down. The dwarven king ducked the blow and drove his sword into Azog's chest, pushing so hard the orc dropped back and the whole weight of Thorin drove the blade through his body completely as they tumbled over.

“ _Amrâlimê!_ ” the King under the Mountain limps to my side again and stumbles onto his knees, exhausted and panting. “Are you alright?!”

“I...”

I know Azog pierced me with his claw under the ice but I cannot bring myself to say it. I can see Thorin is himself again, his eyes clear and full of worry. I did not want to add to his misery but he found the wound when he lay his hand across my stomach and I whimpered.

“No...” he tries to position the leather to put pressure over the injury.

Bilbo has reappeared again, running over and covered in the dark stains of orc blood. He nearly starts crying when he sees me like this.

“Get the goats from the war chariot!” Thorin yells at him. “Quickly! She hasn't got much time!”

“Uncle?” Fíli has joined us, as has Kíli.

“Hold on, my love. I will get you to the healing chambers,” Thorin is trying to be calm but his voice is waivering.

“Oh no,” Balin says softly, as him and Dwalin return. “Oh lassie.”

“If I die, bury me with Rathak,” I draw my king's attention back to myself. “He gave his life for me. He's up on the wall.”

“I refuse,” Thorin growls. “Because you will _not_ die. Not like this. Not after everything. Not when I have just come back to you.”

“ _Melhekhul_ ,” I reach up for his face.

“Forgive me,” he presses his forehead to mine so I don't have to attempt to sit up. “Forgive me for everything. I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

“It is forgiven,” I murmur, unsure if I will make it through the hour.

He started talking some more to me but it grew fainter. I felt cold, cold to my bones and like my body was not my own any more. The sky was growing darker, though I suppose that may have been my vision leaving me.

I slipped into shadow surrounded by friends and my love.

**

“-I don't not want to hear another word of it!”

Thorin's voice was what cut through the fog of my wanderings through night time. He seemed incensed, passionate.

“It is not about what you _want_ , Thorin. It is about what Erebor _needs_ ,” a husky voice, low but feminine.

“Then Mahal take Erebor! I will not give her up!”

I keep my eyes closed, eavesdropping on their conversation. I did not want to alert them I was awake yet.

“You always were stubborn, brother but this is unreasonable. She is a _human_. You are a dwarven king.”

“She is of an ancient royal line, Dís. The Númenoreans. You remember our teachings on them? If you cannot get past what she is then at least realise this could be a good diplomatic match. It could restore our good faith with the surrounding humans towns. An heir to Gondor's throne within Erebor.”

“It is _forbidden_!” Dís snarls, that same temper as her brother. “They will not accept her!”

“Then I renounce the crown!” Thorin bellows back. “Fili can have it! I will exile myself if I have to but I will not break my heart!”

“Fili is not ready! You would not put the burden of being king upon him when he's so young, surely? Thorin, you already have a promised match. Marry her. Make your human a mistress if you have to be so base but _do your duty_!”

The pain in my stomach became worse upon hearing those words. Thorin had told me during our journey that he had no one waiting for him in the Blue Mountains. Now I discovered he was betrothed.

“I promised _nothing_ ,” Thorin counters. “I said if I had to I would do it but I would not love her. Now I have found my one great love and you wish to rip it from my fingers. Do _not_ call yourself my blood if you would wish this much suffering upon me.”

“Thorin!” Dís seems shocked.

“I need to go get wrappings for her wounds. The Elfking could only do so much,” I hear his footsteps start to leave. “You should be grateful, sister. She is the only reason we are back home.”

Then he's gone from the room.

I open my eyes at that point.

Dís was not what I was expecting. I had heard stories that dwarrowdams were nearly impossible to tell from dwarven males due to the facial hair and broadness but Dís, I could easily tell was female. Perhaps I was just used to being around dwarvenkind that I could pick out the differences but even the beard she had was soft and tapered around her chin to enhance her angular jawline.

She was the spit of her brother in many ways, even down to the grey strands but I could see how she would be a beautiful princess for the dwarves of Erebor.

“ _Bakn galikh, Uzbadnâtha_ ,” I attempt to greet her.

She looks around quickly, those same azure eyes locking onto mine as she blinks in confusion at hearing Khuzdul from me. I had made sure to learn the term for 'princess' in case I ever met her, to give her her proper title.

“It is not morning, Raven-Favoured,” she eventually regains herself, rebuffing my conversation attempt. “Nor is it good.”

We sit in awkward silence for a while until I work up the nerve to speak again.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Days, so my brother says. You are lucky to be alive.”

“I suppose you wished I had perished to make things easier, given the arguing I heard,” I sit up with great effort.

Dís looks a little ashamed at that. She keeps staring at the floor.

“I know he loves you,” her voice is quiet, reflective. “I can see that. A blind dwarf could see that. What you have done for him and for Erebor, I know you love him also. If it were within my power to change the minds of my folk, I would do but I know they will oppose it. Thorin flippantly declared he would settle for a bride before he undertook this quest, it has now been taken for an expectation and they will not be expecting a human to fulfil that role.”

“Who is she?” I ask. “The one he's promised to?”

“Anvarrí,” Dís replies. “Dependable, studious and pretty enough to keep his attention. She would make a fine queen.”

“I see,” the barb about Anvarrí's appearance lands.

Thorin comes back, elated at first to see me awake but when he senses the atmosphere and looks to his sister, his smile wanes. Defensively he takes his seat again, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.

“My raven, I am overjoyed you have awoken,” his tone is a lot softer with me than it was with Dís.

“She knows, brother,” Dís says meaningfully. “About Anvarrí.”

“There is nothing to know about her,” Thorin shot her a nasty look. “This is your choice, princess of Erebor. Either you accept our love or your son takes the throne. There is no middle ground. I will not marry someone else.”

“No one shall marry a human and you together in the first instance, Thorin. Would you listen to reason?!”

“The Elfking knows the word of old. If I have to resort to that, I will. Either we will be together in Erebor or together in Eriador. The location does not matter.”

What I attempt to say in Khuzdul is, “Let the people decide. King Thorin or King Fíli.”

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin breaks into a smile. “My heart sings every time you try.”

“She needs to have a proper teacher,” Dís sighs, lounging back in the chair.

“She taught herself, sister. Do not be so harsh,” Thorin shakes his head, leaning over to kiss me.

“What did I actually say?” I ask.

“Letting the kin adjudicate. I understood your meaning. It is a fair suggestion.”

“I suppose it is,” Dís stands up and goes to leave but before she does, she puts her hand on her brother's back. “It is nice to see you smile, Thorin. Truly.”

Then she leaves.

“She will come around in time, even if we depart this place,” Thorin climbs into the bed next to me, cradling me in his arms. “By Durin, I have never been so scared as I was on the Ravenhill. I thought I had lost you.”

“How are your injuries?” I ask.

“I shall not be sprinting any time soon,” he gives a gruff laugh. “But I did journey back up the hill.”

He disentangles for a moment before fetching a gilded box with a raven symbol on the lid and hands it to me. I know what's inside instinctively, my fingers tracing over the raised bird pattern and the runes underneath which I think spell Rathak's name.

“He was a friend to all Erebor, the king of ravens. I would return him to the person he loved the most,” Thorin fixes the end of my courting braid that's come loose in the fight.

“Bury him in the roost. He is home at last where he belongs,” I kiss the box before handing him back. “Would you really give up your throne to live with me in the forest?”

“Without question. Power and riches mean nothing to me if I cannot be with you....that is if you will still have me after everything I have done.”

“I shall expect to be waited on hand and foot for a while but yes, I told you Thorin. This braid is not being undone by me.”

His kisses are gentle, like the night in the windlance tower. All the possessiveness is gone from him, the aggressiveness.

There's a knock at the door which interrupts us and Fíli comes in. He initially smiles at seeing us there together but coughs to announce something more serious.

“Mother wants all of us to go to the king's hall, if the dragon-slayer is ready to be moved. She is gathering the lords for a vote. I...uh...I understand I could be king if they do not allow your union.”

“I would not want this burden for you, nephew,” Thorin sighs. “But they might move for exile.”

“I shall do my best should it come to that but if they let me have a vote, I would see you both in Erebor.”

“Fili?” I ask before he leaves. “I will need two people to help me into the halls. I have been sleeping so long I am not sure what strength is left in me.”

“Let me dress her first,” Thorin shoos him out before taking a bundle from a chest nearby. “I had these made for you. Dress or tunic, whichever will be comfortable.”

“Dress. They should see me at my best, not what is comfortable.”

“ _Amrâlimê_. Be who are you, not what they expect you to look like.”

“Tunic then,” I groan, swinging my legs out of the bed.

The tunic he's had made has the seven silver stars of Arthedain and in the centre, a raven with spread wings. It is both sides of me perfectly represented.

Whilst I pull them on, Thorin tidies the rest of my hair with meticulous precision. I almost fall asleep as his fingers work over my scalp.

“It is time to hear our fate, my raven,” he helps me to my feet before calling Fíli back in. “Wherever we go, we go together.”


	14. The King Under the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thorin face the vote of the dwarven lords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, sad themes
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Thanks for coming on this hyperfixation journey with me guys!

I must have looked a piteous sight, being half carried through the hallways of Erebor by the king and the prince.

The strength in my legs was lacking and although Thranduil had healed my wounds to a great degree, my stomach still wrenched when I moved too quickly. It would take me a while longer to recover from.

At least my shoulder was giving me less trouble as we moved into the Gallery of Kings, walking through to the throne room. I glanced at the golden corpse of Smaug and was startled to see a plaque already in front of him with a gilded glass case.

“What is that?” I ask.

“That is an enshrinement to you,” Fíli smiles. “The others helped make it. They've put the bow in there that killed Smaug and the Fire of Elros necklace so everyone can see the sacrifice you made for the mountain.”

“What does it say?”

“ _Here lies the great dragon Smaug, felled by the Elrossar of the Númenoreans. With bow and flame, the beast was killed and the relic of the Arthedain stands as testament,_ ” Fíli rattles off.

“Elrossar?” I question.

“The Elfking told us it was a more fitting title than 'Raven-Bearer', since you carried Elros' favour,” Thorin shakes his head.

“And you actually listened to something Thranduil had to say?”

“Much strangeness has happened since you've been asleep, my love,” he answers quietly. “We are nearly there.”

When we came to the throne room, it was already packed with dwarven lords and even Dáin was still present, looking thunderous in the corner.

Upon my entrance, I was mobbed by the Company who greeted me with whoops and cries, tears and embraces. Thorin had to remind them I was still injured to allow me some breathing space in the end.

Finally Bilbo managed to squeeze through the line and he just beamed at me, “What time do you call this? It's been days. I had to amuse myself whilst you were unconscious.”

“I hope you can forgive me, dear friend,” I smile.

“I'll think about it,” the hobbit winks.

“I think I have to face all of Erebor now but if I am exiled, we shall at least have fun travelling back.”

“Good luck,” he hugs me before stepping back to allow Thorin and Fíli to approach the dais.

Dís is stood to the side of it, as the princess of Erebor and Kíli is next to her. When we reach the throne, Thorin takes the crown from Dís and places it upon his head before standing me off to the other side.

“Stand tall, _Bâhzundushuh,_ ” Thorin whispers to me. “You cannot sit down whilst this takes place. They will see it as weakness. I will take you to rest once we are done.”

“I understand, _u_ _krad_ ,” I nod.

“ _'Greatest heart'_ ,” he smiles briefly. “You really did learn a lot, didn't you?”

“I tried to.”

I was the only one privy to his radiant grin before he had to wrangle his expression into something more kingly. He took his place on the throne after that and waved for his sister to begin.

“Lords of Erebor,” she starts. “You have been gathered in the throne room for a singular purpose that requires a vote. The vote shall decide who shall lead our people.”

“Why would we want anyone else but King Thorin to do that?” an older dwarf with pure white hair seems confused. “He is the heir. He is our saviour.”

“Peace, Hreidmarr,” Thorin raises a hand. “There is a reason you may not want me to lead. Continue, princess of Erebor.”

“A _very_ good reason,” Dáin curls his lip in disgust.

“The human standing next to the king is the Elrossar that slew Smaug the Terrible,” Dís ignores Dáin but Dwalin gives him a surreptitious kick in the ankles to stop him from making more comments. “Thorin has declared his love for her and made the courting braid. He understands marriage is forbidden between dwarves and the other races and so asks for your decision about whether he should retain the throne or if it should pass to Prince Fíli.”

There's an explosion of noise after Dís stops speaking. I try not to listen, certain I might hear insulting things about myself.

“QUIET!” Thorin stands and a hush falls. “Before you make your vote, I shall speak my heart. When we first set out for Erebor, I hated this human because of what she was. As our journey continued, she only proved herself to be a loyal friend to us who rescued us time and again. It did not matter to her that we were dwarves, she treated us like any other.

I fell in love with her courage, her quiet strength and her kindness. She is my one great love.

This alone will not be enough to sway you, I know, but she is of the old Númenorean line turned Dúnedain ranger. She is one heir to the throne of Gondor. A marriage between us would do great reparations for the humans we used to be allies with in Dale. Erebor needs to trade again, Erebor needs to expand. A dwarven/human alliance will only benefit from a combined rule.

Also, she was chosen by a raven of Erebor to be their companion and given their fickle nature, that should tell you of her character.

Finally, I say unto you, that were it not for my raven, none of you would be standing in your home today. Not only would the Company have perished on the journey, not only would Smaug still wander our halls but she helped me kill the Pale Orc also. She has sacrificed her familial relics for us, her raven friend for us and bled for us.

If you do not accept her as my other, you will treat her with respect at the very least. Now you may think on your choice.”

The previous chatter was now expressed in murmurs as Thorin held his hand out to me and I took it in a display of unity. Even though my injuries were begging me to sit, to rest, I fought hard to stand tall.

It seemed like a lifetime before Dís called for silence once more.

“When I give the signal, move to the left for those who favour the Durin & Númenorean alliance, move to the right for those who oppose this union and wish for King Fíli to ascend to the throne. Understood?”

“Aye,” comes the reply.

“Make your vote.”

I did not look at the milling dwarf lords. I only looked at Thorin who held such reverence in his eyes for me. His gaze was the only thing that stopped my legs from shaking with the nerves.

“The vote is cast. I will count the lords. Be seated when I have called you,” Dís moves to the lines.

“ _Bâhzundushuh_ ,” Thorin squeezes my hand. “No matter what, I love you.”

In the dead silence, my voice was clear to those in front of us, “ _Maralmizu, melhekhul.”_

“STOP!” one of the dwarves with auburn plaits calls.

I looked up and saw the right side held more lords in that moment. My heart began to sink.

“Did she just speak Khuzdul?!” the dwarf continues.

“She did, Vitr,” Thorin looks up. “Ever since the dragon was killed, she has been teaching herself without our knowledge. She wanted to be able to speak to us properly, on our terms. I was just as surprised as you were.”

“She studied for days on end,” Balin pipes up on the left side. “From naught but scraps of our historical texts.”

“I change my vote,” Vitr crosses the hall. “I did not want a human who would try to rule as a human but if she is making efforts to integrate, I will make the effort to change my mindset. You are not the first dwarf to love a human, King Thorin. There have even been dwarves who have loved elves but their history is locked in the vaults away from Erebor's eyes for the shame of it.

Well, hang it all, I say. If the union is wrong, Fíli will still take the throne. If you cannot have bairns, Fíli will still take the throne. There is no way to lose and we have everything to gain from new alliances.”

Once Vitr has settled himself by Balin, it causes a ripple in the water. Vitr must be someone influential because suddenly more dwarves start crossing to the left and more and more until it became obvious without counting that they had voted for Thorin and I to remain.

“You're all mad!” Dáin shouts, clearly annoyed. “Thorin is promised to Anvarrí!”

The direction he's pointing, I look and see a blond dwarrowdam dressed in green finery. Dís was correct, she was pretty and had a regal air to her posture. Her expression when she caught my gaze, however, now _that_ was anything but regal.

She looked furious.

“It was not my intention to promise myself,” Thorin stands. “You did make no formal marriage offer to me, nor did I braid your hair, Anvarrí.”

“Has the human made an offer?”

I had not but I did not want to make Thorin's case seem weak. The position of the lords was already precarious.

“I have,” I say firmly. “I would marry Thorin, son of Thráin, whether he be king or exile from this vote. It matters not where we are but only that we are together.”

Another couple of lords crossed to the left.

“I would not stand in the way of a dwarf's great love and you are the rightful heir, King Thorin,” says a dark haired dwarf with an elaborate coil of braids sewn with gold. “The girl has made her love for you known also. She is not here to steal our riches or gain power. I am convinced.”

“Thank you, Brokkr,” Thorin nods.

“Are there any more lords who wish to change their mind?” Dís asks.

But no more do. We do not need them to. They have clearly voted in our favour.

“Thorin shall remain king. He shall wed the Elrossar and the line of Durin will merge with the line of Númenor. The vote is cast. Those who do not agree are free to leave the mountain.”

I could've fallen in that moment, the relief was so great. Instead, Thorin stood upon his throne, drew me to him and kissed me publicly in front of every dwarven lord in Erebor to the cheers of the entire Company.

**

The wedding took months to prepare.

I did not care for the ceremony of it but considering Thorin insisted upon inviting those Dúnedain I was close to, they took a while to arrive.

Bilbo stayed in Erebor with us after sending a letter to his kin to tell them he was alive. He spent a great amount of time fretting that the Sackville-Baggins family would try to claim Bag End if he did not announce where he was currently. I did ask if he wanted to return but he assured me he wouldn't miss the union for all the Old Toby in the Shire.

I also sent word to Elrond through Thranduil's spy that I would be leaving my post and the area would need a more permanent patrol in my absence. I did not like to abandon my duty but I could not keep Eriador safe from my perch in Erebor. Perhaps I could do far more against the invaders of the North with a queen's power behind me.

The day before the wedding, Thorin took me to the Ravenshill where all of the ravens were now roosting, the ruins no longer frozen over. We entombed my friend in the top of the tower with a view over the whole area down to the ruins of Laketown.

Whilst we were about to leave, one single raven flew onto my shoulder and started talking to me.

“What are they saying, _amrâlimê?_ ” Thorin asks.

I'm almost smiling too widely to get the words out as I stroke the raven's feathers, “This is Rathak's offspring. Sometimes he would fly away for a while and now I know what he got up to.”

“That is wonderful,” Thorin grins as well.

“She was just telling me she appreciates him being returned and offers her services to the King and Queen under the Mountain.”

“Tell her we would be honoured,” Thorin holds his hand out, careful not to spook the raven who hops from my shoulder to his fingers.

So I relay the message and the bird bows, wings outstretched.

“Her name is Valdis.”

“Valdis,” Thorin pets her head. “Well met, Valdis, daughter of Rathak.”

Valdis makes a soft sound before flying back up to the coop to rejoin the others.

We travelled back down with much lighter hearts before I nearly broke the rule about sleeping separately before we were married. It was Dwalin who caught me sneaking into the room and he just grabbed me by the scruff of my nightshirt and marched me back, much to Thorin's protests.

On the day of the wedding, the dwarrowdams attending me had truly outdone themselves with a gown of pure gold, embroidered with both Thorin's patterns and the Arthedain stars. The reality was setting in as I saw myself in the mirror that they had propped up on a higher pedestal to be my height.

“Beautiful,” I saw Thorin behind me. “Leave my love and I alone for a time.”

The ladies vacate the room as Thorin, in full king regalia of burnished gold, sits me on a small chair and stands behind me, refreshing the courting braid and doing several more in my hair for the occasion.

“Are you ready, _Bâhzundushuh?_ ” he kisses my cheek.

“Yes, just nervous,” I admit.

“There is nothing to be nervous about. You have won over every dwarf you have been in contact with since they returned to Erebor. The only bad words I have heard with your name are those lords who returned to the Blue Mountains or followed Dáin to the Iron Hills.”

“Thorin,” I turn around and place my hand on his jaw, playing with the longer strands of his beard that were adorned with gold beading. “We will be alright, won't we? I have not been brought up to be royal.”

“If anyone can learn quickly, it is you. Now, Aragorn is outside the door. As the leader of the Dúnedain, he will escort you to the hall. I shall see you in there, my treasure of the mountain.”

“Wait,” I stop him. “Do you have any spare hair cuffs?”

“Some,” he takes them out of his pocket. “Why?”

“We are breaking tradition today so I will start a new one. Sit down,” I take the ornaments before moving behind my dwarven king.

When I undo the braid by his right temple, he suddenly realises what I mean to do. He starts laughing fondly.

“This isn't usual, _Bâhzundushuh,_ ” he keeps still for me as I attempt the five strand braid.

“I know that. I just said I am starting a new tradition.”

“I think this will become quite the fashion after today then.”

He's incredibly patient, especially when I mess up and have to restart some sections but eventually, Thorin has a courting braid of his own. He admires it in the mirror before giving me such a searing kiss, I nearly don't let him leave the room.

“And when you teach me how to use the forge, I can replace the cuffs with ones I make,” I whisper to him.

For a moment, tears well up in Thorin's eyes before he blinks them away, “By Durin, you are the most precious thing to me. Come, do not make me wait any longer to be wed to you.”

The King under the Mountain leads me out before gently guiding me towards Aragorn and leaving.

“It has been a long time, cousin,” Aragorn smiles before embracing me. “You've grown.”

“So have you,” I remark. “You used to be a lot slighter.”

“Fighting orcs will usually fill the muscle out. Enough about our duty, it is your wedding day! I would never have suspected you would marry a dwarven king. I am truly happy for you.”

“And what of you? Your Elven lady?”

Aragorn's face lights up at her mention. I can see just how deeply in love he is.

“We are still hiding it from Lord Elrond. He will not approve. Arwen's love for me condemns her to a shorter life. You are lucky, cousin. Your lifespan shall match Thorin's.”

“Arwen will cherish every year she has with you, Strider,” I use his nickname.

“Come,” Aragorn puts his arm around my shoulders. “We can swap our stories another time, and I am particularly interested in the dragon, but you should not make your husband wait.”

So he leads me to the hall but just before we enter, he holds something in his closed palm until I reach out my hand for it.

“A wedding gift from the Dúnedain, since you sacrificed yours for Erebor,” he whispers.

In my hand now lies another pendant, blue, the deepest blue that swirls and maelstroms as I look at it. I know what it is instantly.

“The Tears of Bregor?” I look up in alarm. “Strider, this is too much. It is older than the Fire.”

“Our relics need to stay with our kin,” he takes it from my hands and places it around my neck. “I think it will be safer with a queen rather than a ranger.”

“Thank you.”

We touch heads together briefly before he walks me into the hall where Thorin is waiting.

I had never been this overwhelmed before. Never had I seen so many people in one place and for a moment, I thought I would panic but Aragorn's steady presence helped me to master my own ineptitude for being in crowds.

Once we reached the dais, the old dwarrowdam with silver in her iron hair nods and addresses the crowd.

“From the line of Númenor, who approaches?”

“Aragorn II, Elessar. I hereby entrust my kin to the line of Durin. Keep her hale, keep her hearty.”

“How do you know the words?” I say out of the corner of my mouth.

“I do not. I'm merely improvising,” my cousin says back quietly.

“From the line of Durin, who receives?”

“I, Thorin, son of Thráin and King under the Mountain, receive,” Thorin says loudly and clearly. “I take the Elrossar for my own, above all others and only her.”

“Come,” the dwarrowdam officiating holds out her hand for me. “I can say the words in Common Tongue for you.”

“I shall try Khuzdul,” I bravely state. “Though if I mispronounce, I apologise now.”

Thorin just surreptitiously winks at me before holding out his right hand and I hold out my right too as we grasp at the elbow. I am lucky I was forewarned about what the ceremony would entail.

The dwarrowdam produces fine gold chain before wrapping it around our arms, saying words that I only caught half of. I repeated when she looked at me expectantly and I believe I managed to get through the ceremony without mangling the words badly enough to offend.

“I am proud of you, my love,” Thorin beams as the vows end. “You did very well. Now is the part where we kiss.”

So I followed his lead, leaning down and doing just that as the tumultuous applause rang out. In the corner of my eye when I pulled away, I saw Gandalf hidden by a pillar, clapping hard and giving me a secret smile. Then the wizard was gone.

“I just saw Gandalf,” I remark.

“He was in the battle,” Thorin turns around, looking for him. “Managed to save a few of our company when the orc army joined the field. He has stayed longer than he usually does to make sure you were well. It will not be the last time we see him.”

The chains are undone as the next part of the ceremony occurs.

“Dwarves of Erebor, honoured guests of the Dúnedain, honoured guests of Laketown, honoured guests of Mirkwood and Master of the Shire, today you shall bear witness to not only the marriage between a dwarf and a human but the crowning of the Queen under the Mountain. Bilbo, my trusted friend, if you may bring me the crown.”

So my dear hobbit approaches with the crown Thorin had forged many months ago before dropping into a half bow.

“Congratulations,” he says as he holds up the velvet pillow with it on. “I am so thrilled for you both.”

“And we are thrilled you could be here, Bilbo,” I smile brightly at him.

“ _Bâhzundushuh,_ if you will kneel. I am afraid I lack the height to do this as I would like,” Thorin quips.

“I could find you a chair,” I counter before sinking to my knees.

Thorin moves behind me to place the crown over my head and this time it feels right. I am not some fraudulent royal, only a queen because Thorin said so. Now I officially co-rule over Erebor.

“The queen shall speak,” the King under the Mountain announces.

This is the part where I am struck by a terrible anxiousness, addressing this many people. I think Thorin can see the change in me because he holds my hand, rubbing his thumb over my palm to soothe me.

So I speak to the people who are now mine. I speak in Khuzdul for some and Common Tongue for the rest of the time. I assure them I will keep Erebor's interests at heart. I will defend the mountain against any enemy and that Thorin and I have plans to restore this kingdom to its former glory and beyond.

“That was very eloquent,” Dís is to the other side of me now and she leans up to speak directly in my ear. “If you ever hurt my brother, I do not care that you are queen. You will not last the night.”

“Do you really think I intend to harm him?” I look her dead in the eyes.

She studies me for a moment, “No, no I do not but now you know the consequences if you decide to be the person I do not think you are. Rule well, Raven-Favoured and love him well.”

So we begin the long procession up to the throne that overlooks most of Erebor. By the time we reach the top steps, my calves are burning from the repetitive action and lifting the long dress but there, in front of all the lords, in front of all of dwarvenkind, Thorin takes his seat on the throne and I sit on the secondary throne as the Queen under the Mountain.

If there was any doubt of acceptance amongst the people, it was quelled the second Valdis flew into the chambers and perched upon my shoulder.

“Hail the King under the Mountain!” Fíli calls and Kíli follows with, “Hail the Raven Queen!”

**

“Mahal, I thought they would never let us leave,” Thorin is hurriedly pulling me into the king's chambers, our chambers.

“And now they shall have to leave us alone for an entire week,” I lock the door. “Finally I can spend some time with my husband alone. I was ready to punch Dwalin.”

“I was ready to do far worse to him when he dragged you from my chambers before,” Thorin grunts before removing his crown and I follow suit. “Could we start a new tradition where weddings are not so long?”

“You are king, my love.”

“That I am. I am _your_ king,” his eyes glimmer with mischief.

“And what does my king ask of me?”

“Your king asks to become one with you. In my dragon sickness, much of what I did was a haze. I know we have been intimate but it is like a dream to me. I wish to be awake in this moment.”

“Then be awake,” I undo the laces of the gown until it pools around my feet.

I had never seen him undress so quickly and the strength he showed in picking me up from arms wrapped around my thighs and letting me drop onto the bed was impressive. When he peeled the undergarments away from me, I had half expected him to balk at the new scars since he had not fully seen my body yet but he traced them, kissed them with such love and care that I did not feel ashamed any more.

“My brave, brave raven,” he murmurs. “Wolf-Kissed, Orcs-Bane.”

“ _You_ were the one to kill the Defiler,” I point out.

“I could not have without you. I am better when I am with you,” he moves back up to kiss me, playing with my lips in a teasing way. “And now we shall be together always.”

He resumes the mapping of my body with fingers, lips and tongue. It is as if he is committing it to memory, exploring every inch of me.

When he reaches the juncture of my thighs, he does something I do not expect from him and settles between them before pressing his insistent kisses to the core of me. That stirs a fire that burns so bright that it aches.

Then the broad flat of his tongue meets me and the noise I make is obscene. He moves his mouth against me with the urgency of one starved and the low groan he makes upon hearing mine has my fingers twisting in the fine sheets.

My legs are shaking, tense and desperate to find that peak as he pins me in place with large hands to keep me steady. With a shout of his name, pleasure rips through me, almost stealing my breath away.

“Mahal, you taste like honey,” heavy lust lidded eyes meet mine as he sits up. “That I could do a thousand times and ten thousand times more and never tire of it.”

“Thorin,” I sit up too, kissing him fiercely, my hand moving down his torso to his groin.

When my palm runs along the length of him, he hisses into my mouth, desire spiking further. Instead of letting me have my fun, he curls his arms around my thighs and pulls hard until I fall flat on the bed. He was far too impatient to wait any longer.

Thorin eased himself into me, slowly and deliberately so I could feel every inch. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“ _Maralmizi,_ _amrâlimê._ I will be as gentle as I can be. You feel so delicate to my touch.”

“Do not treat me like glass, husband,” I roll my hips back against him, feeling him slide deeper into me. “I have cheated death many times.”

“That you have,” he smiles before thrusting so hard, I am sure I could be heard in the halls of Erebor. “By Durin, that I hear that sound all my life.”

Our movements are frantic, passionate and bordering on aggressive. I needed the clear separation between dragon sick Thorin and my Thorin and I found it with my hands wrapped around his back, winding into his hair and a scream of pleasure at my lips.

When he stills within me, a growl renting his chest, the spectre of his prior actions leave me completely and I am content in the arms of the King under the Mountain.

“I think we have made every dwarf in Erebor jealous,” he laughs, pointing to the window that looks out onto the kingdom and I see it is open.

“Perhaps more of your folk will be curious about humans now,” I push him lightly in the chest as he gathers me in the crook of his arm.

“I am sure they will be but I have the most beautiful one,” Thorin strokes my cheek as I trace the tattoo pattern across his arms. “Would you like one, _Bâhzundushuh?_ Markings of your own?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only for a little while.”

“I think I would.”

“Then I shall fetch Skirfir after our week of solitude has ended. He is much more skilled than I am at it. Until then, what shall we do with our alone time?”

“I am sure I can think of a few things,” I roll on top of him with intent in my eyes.

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” he seems surprised. “What are you planning?”

“Shhh, just enjoy it husband,” I bid him. “Trust me.”

**

_So the King under the Mountain and the Raven Queen ruled for many years._

_The city of Dale was rebuilt and those from Laketown became its new inhabitants. Bard was their leader, working directly with the Raven Queen to establish new trade routes and, under the dual care of humans and dwarves, a new capital was established._

_The Raven Queen also reinforced the northern borders with those who wished to range more from the mountain. Mirkwood was able to reclaim more of the forest due to this and King Thranduil became allies with Erebor once more, even commissioning new jewels for the Elven kingdom, personally made by King Thorin himself._

_With a human ruler, Ereborian culture was changed and dwarves started adopting fashions and mannerisms their queen was seen to use. The custom of dwarven courting braids expanded so the female would braid the male's hair in kind._

_The most startling change was the acceptance of dwarves to court outside of their race. The King under the Mountain's example inspired some to be more adventurous and Prince Kíli married an elf of Mirkwood some years after the blending of Durin and Númenor._

_Master Baggins returned to the Shire and wrote his memoirs of the journey. He would come once a decade to Erebor, for the way was still long but much less perilous with more allies to help. He was always warmly received and would spend a few months in the mountain to properly greet his friends._

_He was indeed the most famous hobbit in generations._

_It was thought the King Under the Mountain and the Raven Queen could not bear children as they tried for decades to no avail. Sometime after the Raven Queen passed one hundred years of age, they were blessed with two children. The first, a girl who was greatly celebrated, Torvi. The second, a boy, Torsten._

_They stood a head taller than their father but smaller than their mother, delicate features favouring their human side but Torsten was broader than any man and held Thorin's bearing in his face. Torvi had more of her mother in her appearance and did not grow the facial hair of dwarrowdams._

_The prince and princess were much loved by the people of Erebor and strengthened the human alliances they had._

_During the War of the Ring, The King Under the Mountain and the Raven Queen took up arms to repel the forces from the North and the South. Those in the Company that had not left for Moria joined them to defend Erebor and Dale from Sauron's armies, merging with Mirkwood until the threat was defeated._

_Peace reigned once more in the mountain._

_When the time came that the Raven Queen passed, Erebor mourned for a year. King Thorin buried her on top of the Ravenhill so she might be amongst the creatures she loved the most and be where trees grew and water winded. The mausoleum was grand and the descendants of Rathak the bold would bring offerings from time to time on the anniversary of her death, flowers, sparkling treasure and such._

_King Thorin then passed the crown to his son Torsten before setting out on a journey from the mountain. He told no one where he went but after he did not return for a couple of years, Princes Fíli and Kíli went after him._

_They discovered him within the little hut, dilapidated with the years, in the middle of the forest in Eriador where the Raven Queen had lived for much of her early life. Thorin was in her bed, having passed away from a broken heart, surrounded by everything that was his ranger._

_The Princes brought the King back to the Mountain where he was buried next to his beloved, the Ravenhill regenerated and refreshed to become a sacred place._

_Thus ended the saga of Thorin Oakenshield and the one called the Raven Eyed. The first dwarf and human to be married in the history of Middle Earth._

Thranduil set down the quill as the ink dried on the page. This was the fourth copy he had made to be sent to the historical archives around Middle Earth.

Once he sure it would not smudge, he secured the copies in scroll carriers and called his spymaster over, the shadowy dark-silvered elf coming to his side. He handed the carriers over which were secured in a bag around her shoulder.

“You know where these need to go, Authwen,” he dismisses her and she melts into the recesses of the hall to deliver them.

He sighed before passing a hand over the new crown made by King Thorin that sat on his desk, such delicate fine work that would last for millennia.

“There will never be another love like you two,” he says to the air. “I am glad I was alive to witness it.”


End file.
